Bleeding Love
by kel0158
Summary: Contract killer Jason Morgan finds himself in over his head when he agrees to kill Elizabeth's abusive husband. Liason.
1. Chapter 1

"I want you to kill my husband."

It wasn't his place to ask why, and he very rarely cared, but he'd never met a woman like Elizabeth before. Ridiculously out of place in a bar like The River Rat in her ivory silk shirt and five hundred dollar shoes. Elizabeth seemed to know it too, as she sat across from him in a corner booth hidden in the shadows. Her eyes, which he'd noticed right off, were lost somewhere between blue and green, darted anxiously around the room as she gnawed on her full bottom lip and toyed with the bottle of room temperature beer she'd ordered in an impossible attempt to blend in.

She tilted her head slightly to the left and peered up at him through her thick, cosmetically darkened lashes as if afraid to look at him fully. He couldn't blame her for being wary; it probably wasn't every day she came into contact with a contract killer, especially not one she wanted to employ. As if aware of his scrutiny, Elizabeth lowered her eyes and reached for her purse. It was one of those huge bags that women seemed to favor for some unknown reason and it was almost as big as she was.

"This is half," she said, passing a thick yellow envelope across the table. "You'll get the rest after."

Quickly taking the envelope and tucking it in the inside pocket of his leather coat, he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed the unsubtle handoff. An advantage of The River Rat was that people generally minded their own business, but when you were talking about that kind of money, you never could tell what someone might do. Not that he was worried; no one wanted a piece of Jason Morgan – not if they knew what was good for them.

Elizabeth's hand was shaking as she withdrew it. Unexpectedly he was hit with the full force of those blue-green eyes; it was like getting struck by lightening it gave him such a jolt. It also gave him the first decent look at her face so far. It was some face too, or would be without the yellowing bruises on her right cheekbone that make-up couldn't quite cover. Nervously, she tucked her hair behind an ear and he saw the new marks hidden just under the collar of her shirt.

Just like that he knew the why – or at least part of it. Even though he'd seen it more times than he could count, the woman before him managed to stir compassion within him. It pissed him off. He could not allow himself to care. His clients didn't pay him to.

"Aren't you going to count it?" she asked, referring to the money.

"I trust you."

Actually he trusted the guy who'd vouched for her, he had a feeling she knew that as well. If not for the call he'd gotten two days ago from his friend asking for a personal favor, Jason would still be in Puerto Rico enjoying an extended vacation. After meeting Elizabeth, he had to wonder what his old friend's interest was in the situation.

She must have noticed his continued attention to her neck because she flipped her hair back over her shoulder effectively hiding them and he caught the faint smell of apples. Green apples he decided, crisp and fresh with some bite to it. Not the perfume of a femme fatale, but it stirred something low in his gut which he quickly disregarded.

"I'll need a name," he told her.

"Oh," she said, diving back into her purse as if she'd just remembered something and produced a slim brown folder. She slid it over to him by her fingertips almost as if she did not want to touch it. "That should tell you everything you need to know."

Jason nodded and folded it to put it in his jacket with the money. Later he would sit and study the information she'd given him, and then do more of his own research. He didn't trust anyone that much.

"You just want him to disappear or for it to look like an accident?"

She blinked at him as if he'd been speaking another language and then scrunched up her nose. He could practically see the gears moving in her head as she processed and weighed the question carefully.

Shaking her head slowly from side to side, she said, "I don't … I don't know."

"Don't know or don't care?" he couldn't help but ask. There was a difference. It wasn't any of his business but there was something about her that fascinated him, something that he couldn't identify. It happened sometimes but it never sat very well with him.

The sharpness of the inquiry caused her to shrink back, but he couldn't discern if it was from fear or if he'd hit a little to close to home for her liking. Not his problem, Jason told himself. He couldn't waste his time worrying about his clients – even one as pretty as this one.

"Whatever you think is best," she said in a small voice that he had to strain to hear over the raucous Southern Rock blaring from the jukebox.

She must not have liked his piercing stare as he tried to figure her out because she lifted her eyes and said, "You're the expert aren't you?"

The acerbic tone had the corners of his mouth curving upwards for a fraction of a second before settling back into his customary scowl. So she wasn't a total pushover after all, he liked that, but figured her soon-to-be-deceased husband did not. Some men had no taste.

"I'll be in touch," he said with a nod and picked up his beer.

Elizabeth took the dismissal for what it was and got out of there so fast he was surprised she hadn't left skid marks. It irked him that he'd watched her slim little body every step of the way on her way out the door though. _That_ was his problem. One he'd have to handle.

Taking his time, Jason finished his beer and then threw a couple of bucks on the table before he went out to his rental car. It was by the stingy glow of the dome light that he learned the name of his target and then began cursing Sonny Corinthos to hell.

* * *

"Richard Lansing? The District Attorney?" Jason asked in a low, but lethal voice. "The son of Senator Trevor Lansing?"

"The very one. Drink?" Sonny asked as he poured himself a scotch.

"No." He didn't want a drink. He wanted to break the fucking bottle over Sonny's head for getting him into this.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Jason kept hearing Elizabeth's voice in his head. 'Whatever you think is best,' she'd said. Well, he thought it was best to give her her money back and get the hell out of Dodge.

There was no way that the disappearance or death of someone as high profile as Ric Lansing wouldn't go unnoticed. Was Sonny insane? To take this job was just asking to be sent to death row. Jason had no desire to spend the rest of his days in a cage.

He was real sorry that Elizabeth got knocked around by her husband, but she was going to have to find someone else to whack the bastard. He'd even give her a couple of names of guys that wouldn't care about the risks as long as the price was right.

Sonny sat down across from Jason in the dimly let living room of his veritable palace known as Greystone Manor, paid for by his successful coffee import business and the even more profitable money laundering operation for the mob, and sipped his fifty year old scotch.

"What did you think of Elizabeth?"

Jason dropped his chin to his chest and sighed wearily. _Please don't tell me you're sleeping with her_. It wouldn't surprise him any because Sonny loved women – you could ask any one of his ex-wives – but it would complicate the entire mess he'd been sucked into.

"She's a nice girl," Sonny said. "A good girl. She doesn't deserve to be married to a prick like Lansing."

That, Jason could agree with. No woman deserved to be used as a punching bag. He also knew that Sonny felt very strongly about the subject as his mother had been abused by his step-father. Sonny might have trouble keeping it in his pants but he did not hit women.

"I called you because I knew you'd take the job," Sonny told him, still nursing his drink. "It's taken me a long time to get Elizabeth to agree to let me help her."

Yep, he was sleeping with her, Jason concluded, he could tell by the way Sonny reverently talked about her. The wistful gleam in his eye was another damning piece of evidence. _Great. I'm going to have to kill a DA so Sonny can make Elizabeth the fifth Mrs. Corinthos_. Sometimes having Sonny for a friend was more trouble than it was worth.

Most likely realizing that he wasn't completely sold on the job, Sonny's obsidian eyes burned into Jason's clear blue ones. "The last time she tried to leave he put her in the hospital and promised that he'd kill her the next time. I'm inclined to believe him."

Shit. He didn't want involved but he couldn't walk away either. Maybe he wasn't a nice man, but he did have a heart and some moral fucking decency.

"I changed my mind about that drink."

Sonny grinned, dimples flashing because he knew he'd just won. "Help yourself."

* * *

Trevor splashed a liberal amount of bourbon in an antique Waterford glass as he listened to his son whine about everything from his thankless job as a public servant to his tennis serve. There was no trait more despicable in a man than weakness.

Sitting behind his hand carved, mahogany desk in the study of his New York mansion that his wife had decorated for him many years ago, Trevor asked himself how he had gotten stuck with such a spineless jellyfish. Hadn't he taught Ric how to be a master of his own fate? Paved the way for him to follow in his very successful footsteps? Given him everything he ever wanted?

That was the problem; Ric had been given too much. He had no idea what it meant to earn anything. If he wanted something he came to daddy. If he needed help he came to daddy. Instead of the powerful man Trevor thought he was grooming, he'd gotten a weak, spoiled, little boy.

Ric was not in any way mentally deficient, so Trevor could not blame his shortcomings on stupidity. He was just lazy. Why bother to show initiative when someone else would come along to do it for him. And when things went wrong, as they usually did, it was always that someone else's fault.

Trevor hoped that if he gave his son a little more responsibility, showed some faith in him; that he would step up to the plate and prove himself worthy.

"Did the shipment reach our friends overseas?"

Ric sat up a little straighter and even managed a smile. "Yes, it arrived without incident. They also related that they are open to negotiations for another shipment next month. A bigger one."

Returning his son's smile smugly, Trevor leaned back in his chair and savored the thought of all that money secured in several offshore bank accounts and the prospect of adding even more. It was a heady notion. With enough money he would be able to realize all his dreams for both himself and Ric.

For several years he had been taking advantage of his position and considerable clout within the government to procure certain valuable items, whether they be arms or information, and selling them to the highest bidder. It was a very profitable venture and as Trevor's power grew, so did his resources. And Port Charles the perfect site for their dummy corporation because of the amount of traffic in the harbor. It was impossible to check every ship going in or out and Ric was flawlessly positioned to learn if anyone was becoming suspicious of them.

That was the good ole U.S. of A.; it was the land of opportunity. All you had to do was reach out and take it. Trevor certainly hadn't had anyone giving him anything. He'd had to scrape and claw his way to the top. If he'd had to do some questionable things to get there then so be it. Maybe his career had stalled out, but Ric was just getting started. He could do anything, be anything – even President of the United States.

Everything he had done served one purpose, to give his son the opportunities he had never had. If he had to hold Ric's hand the entire way, they would achieve his goals – even if Ric was his own enemy most of the time. He couldn't even control his own wife.

A man with his eye on a future in politics had to worry about his image practically from birth. Any hint of scandal and you were done. Ric was squeaky clean, but even that wasn't enough. The people wanted someone they could identify with, someone with the same values and concerns. They wanted a family man.

Trevor had known that. That was why he'd married his darling Marie and started a family. Had she not died during childbirth, Ric might have turned out differently. Marie had been such a kind and generous woman. She would have known what their son needed to become a strong and self-sufficient man. She would have been able to make him listen as she had always known how to swing things her way. And Marie had known her place.

When his son turned thirty, Trevor decided it was time for him to get married and so he had hand selected a young woman for him. The youngest daughter of an old friend, Dr. Jeff Webber and his wife Angela, also a doctor, from a nice Midwestern state like Colorado, seemed to be the perfect mate for him. Elizabeth was several years younger and simply lovely. The camera loved her. Well-bred and properly educated, she knew how to present a good public face. A little shy, but that wasn't such a bad thing. It made her easier to manage. At least it should have.

Elizabeth had been very agreeable at first, willing leave everything she knew behind in Denver to move to Port Charles, New York and do anything to help her new husband in his race for District Attorney. She'd been brilliant. The voters loved her. Just ate her up and Ric was elected by a landslide. The first step in what Trevor determined to be a long, glorious political future.

It was just after Ric had taken office that the problems had started though.

So Ric had a temper and slapped her around a little. It wasn't his fault. Elizabeth wasn't exactly the sweet, biddable young lady they'd thought either. She was mouthy and had ideas about what she wanted to do with her life. As if she had a role other than that of Mrs. Richard Lansing.

Trevor wasn't entirely uncompromising though. He allowed her to take part in whatever charities she wanted. No matter what they were it was good publicity for Ric to have his wife so involved in the community and no press was bad press – especially if you knew how to spin it. However, if he had known that her involvement in General Hospital's foundation for AIDS research would cause her to take up with people like Sonny Corinthos, he never would have permitted it.

Didn't she realize that associating with scum of the earth like that bottom feeder cast them all in a very poor light?

He'd asked her that very question, and when she said that it shouldn't matter what she did because she wasn't the D.A., he'd almost slapped her himself. The girl was going to ruin them all with her silly ideas and crusades. If she spent less time on her pointless little hobbies and more time concentrating on what was really important maybe he would have a grandchild or two to show for all his trouble.

"What did the doctor tell you and Elizabeth?" he asked, cutting off Ric's diatribe on the incompetence he faced on a daily basis.

"He can't find any reason why we shouldn't be able to conceive," Ric answered, his eyes meeting his father's for less than a second before flitting away.

"But you've been trying for over two years."

Ric shrugged. "I don't even know if I want children. They're so … messy."

"You can't very well preach family values if you don't have a family."

"I know." He sounded more like a petulant school boy than anything else. It made Trevor sick.

"The voters don't want a man with an uncontrollable wife and no children as their governor. You'll just have to keep trying."

"Yeah. Sure."

Narrowing his eyes, Trevor tried to remember that this was his only son, only child period. If he lost his temper and yelled, Ric would only do something stupid like putting Elizabeth, as useless as she'd proven to be, in the hospital again. That had certainly been a nightmare to clean up and he still wasn't sure everyone was buying their cover story that she'd been in a car accident. It could be a problem.

Honestly, the girl was proving to be more trouble than she was worth. They all might be better of if Elizabeth were to disappear. Ric would be perfect in the role of the grieving widower.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth's prison was a four bedroom Victorian with a two car garage and a swimming pool in the backyard. There might not be bars on the windows or a barbed wire to prevent her escape, but make no mistake about it, she was trapped.

It wasn't how she'd imagined her life. At one point, about a hundred years ago, she'd held such hope for the future. She wanted to backpack across Europe, learn to surf, get a tattoo that she'd regret when she was an old woman and a dozen other silly things that you dreamt of doing when you were young. Nowadays, her only real, pressing desire was to be happy. She wanted to live.

She wanted to know what it was like to go to bed at night content with her life and wake up every morning eager to meet the day. At twenty-six years of age she should not feel so old, like all her best days were behind her. Any dreams she had for herself died when she said, 'I do.'

Sitting at the vanity in the bedroom, Elizabeth was forced to see her face in the mirror. The bruises were easier to look at than her eyes. It was so hard to confront the woman she'd become. Tired, voiceless, and defeated; it was all there and if she had any tears left to spare, she would weep for all that she had lost.

Having already cried enough to fill an ocean, she knew it served no purpose. No one would hear. No one would care even if they could. She learned that a long time ago.

Ric liked to make her cry. Hit her until she sobbed, begged, crawled.

So angry she could hardly breathe, Elizabeth let the power of it course through her veins until the hand holding the powder puff shook. All she had left to call her own was anger.

It was what drove her. Made her get up every morning and look her husband in the face because she knew that one day only one of them would be left standing.

"Me," she told her reflection, but it was without any real enjoyment.

Although filled with nothing but loathing for the man she'd pledged her heart and body to for eternity, Elizabeth did not relish the taking of a life. She did not believe that she was a bad person. A person pushed to the extremes, yes, but not evil. Still, she hired a hitman to kill her husband. That didn't exactly make her a good person either.

It was something she was still struggling with. Though she had wracked her brain, there was no other alternative. When she left, hid, he always found her. And each time he dragged her back, the punishment was worse than the time before. The last time had almost killed her.

When it had gotten so bad and what little fight she had in her had been spent, she had prayed to die. She couldn't live like that anymore, always afraid, waiting for the next time. Death would have been a reprieve.

Yet she lived.

The day she'd woken up in the hospital with too many cuts and contusions to count, three broken ribs and a concussion so severe it had left her in a coma for two days, it had been her rebirth. No more would she be a passive participant in her own life. She would take control back no matter what the cost.

Elizabeth pulled the plain, white terrycloth robe away from her neck, let it droop off her shoulder, and stared at the purple marks that molted her throat. Forgetting something as simple as picking up the dry cleaning had resulted in Ric strangling her until she'd passed out, and it was not the first time. But it would be the last. Until then, the bruises would reinforce her resolve.

What had Jason thought when he saw them, she wondered, idly curious. Jason of the broad shoulders and killer blue eyes that had the butterflies all aflutter in her stomach and made her so nervous she thought she was going to throw up. Did he pity the poor abused wife? Find her inability to get out contemptible? Did he think it was her own fault as so many others had?

"Doesn't matter," she said, pulling the robe back up.

It was the fear of people finding out that had kept her from doing something long ago. She was ashamed that she'd found herself in this position. It gave Ric even more control. He knew she wouldn't do anything about it, would suffer in silence rather than ask for help – if anyone would even believe her.

Ric was a hometown boy made good. People thought the sun rose and set on him, but then again, they didn't have to live with him or his radical mood swings. They never felt the sting of his temper or saw beneath the slick exterior to the cruel and twisted man that beat his wife. He never apologized afterwards, or promised it would never happen again, and part of her was glad. Neither of them would believe him. At least he left her alone to lick her wounds in private. She'd rather be ignored than lied to.

The sound of a car had her running to the window. The sight of the silver Mercedes disappearing into the garage had her blood going cold. It was never good thing when Ric came home during the day.

Her first instinct was to run and hide, but it wouldn't do her any good. Where would she go? He knew she was home. She was always home. If she wanted to go somewhere she had to ask first. Imagine a grown woman needing permission to leave her own house.

The only reason she'd been able to get out to meet with Jason was because Ric went over to see his father. Elizabeth couldn't even think of her father-in-law without shuddering. The only person she despised more than her husband was Trevor Lansing.

"Elizabeth."

Startled by his voice, she clutched her heart with one hand and unconsciously backed up a step. _Go away, just please go away. Leave me alone._

"Elizabeth!"

She could hear the impatience in his voice and knew all too well what would happen if she didn't answer and he had to come looking for her.

"Coming." She went down the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister because her knees were nothing but half-set gelatin. He was waiting for at the bottom of the stairs, hands on hips, brow puckering when he saw she was till in her pajamas. She paused five stairs up, wanting to keep some room between them. Room to run.

"You aren't dressed yet? It's almost lunchtime."

Lazy. Useless. Stupid. Elizabeth heard the recriminations as though he had shouted them. She'd heard them often enough by now that he didn't have to say them.

"I was just getting ready to," she said. "What are you doing home? Is something wrong?" _And how is it my fault? It's always my fault._

"Would you get down here? I don't like looking up to talk to you."

She just bet he didn't. He was the big, strong man as he liked to remind her over and over again. He liked that she was small, barely five-foot-four, and easily overpowered.

Alighting from the stairs, Elizabeth slipped her hands into the pockets of her robe because she tended to fidget when nervous and it annoyed him, and waited for whatever he'd come home for.

It certainly wasn't for a middle of the day quickie. Ric had never cared for sex much after the first couple of times, and for that, she was forever grateful. The only time he came to her these days was when his father started in on him about providing him with an heir. As if she would ever knowingly bring a child into this family. She'd done her best to make sure there wouldn't be any children.

"We are having dinner with Mayor Floyd and his wife tonight," Ric informed her, a drill sergeant barking orders. "You'll wear the navy blue suit, matching heels, pearl necklace, and, for God's sake, do something with your hair."

Elizabeth refrained from reaching up to touch the naturally curly tresses that tended to give her a just tumbled out of bed look. Ric liked her hair sleek and smooth, pinned back when she wasn't trying to cover the evidence of a beating. She wasn't even allowed to dress herself. Ric had chosen her whole wardrobe and made a point to pick out her attire whenever they went out. He didn't trust her not to embarrass him.

"Be ready by six o'clock. I don't want to have to wait for you," he said, raking his eyes over her in a way that told her that he didn't think eight hours was enough time to make herself presentable. Not that it would make a difference, he always found something wrong with her.

"I will."

Ric nodded, still leering at her. "Go take off some of that make-up. You look like a whore."

* * *

Trevor liked to be in control, to know that he held all the strings and only had to pull one to make the person at the other end dance. He especially enjoyed having a man such as Lorenzo Alcazar under his thumb.

From the first moment he had learned of the South American arm dealer's association with the government, Trevor had known that he would be an invaluable asset and went about learning everything he could. Everyone had a weakness, and like him, Lorenzo had a son that he would do anything for. It was easy enough to blackmail him with a few well chosen threats to that beloved son.

So far, Trevor was pleased to know, their business arrangement had been quite successful. Lorenzo continued to move arms for the government per his agreement with them, and for Trevor's various clients around the world. With Lorenzo's contacts their network of customers had grown leaps and bounds over the past several years.

Yes, Lorenzo was very useful, Trevor assured himself as he watched the man over the rim of his coffee cup. Even more so now that they had come across so valuable that it made him salivate just thinking about it. Expressions such as espionage and treason meant little to him. He was loyal only to himself. With this deal he could retire, forget about the strain of a reelection campaign to retain his seat and concentrate on Ric's instead.

"Ric has spoken to our friends in the Middle East," Trevor remarked as if speaking of the weather. He cared nothing of the lives that would be lost. "They are very interested in the information and are willing to talk about the price."

"Fine," Lorenzo said, plucking an imaginary piece of fuzz off the sleeve of his impeccably tailored gray suit, a bored frown pursing the lips mostly hidden in a bushy black beard.

"We don't want to rush any agreement though," Trevor told him thoughtfully. "We still haven't heard back from our man in China."

"No."

"Until then, I have another job I would like you to take care of." Trevor threw a black duffle bag at the other man's feet. "That's a quarter of a million dollars."

The announcement didn't elect even the merest flicker of emotion from the man, and Trevor knew that he made the right choice in taking this matter to Lorenzo. Doing it at all was a risk, but Trevor couldn't very well do it himself.

It was comforting to know that this man had dealt with men more powerful than even himself and knew how to keep his mouth shut. However, everyone fell out of favor eventually, and you never could tell what they would do then; what secrets they would disclose and to who. Yes, it was definitely a risk, but a calculated one.

"The rest will be wired to an account of your choosing upon completion."

"The job?"

"I want you to arrange an accident for my daughter-in-law."

* * *

Elizabeth tied a silk scarf around her neck and looked at herself in the mirror. Red, white and blue stripes to match her navy blue suit – patriotic – the perfect politician's wife, she thought with a sneer.

Ric had big ambitions. Ones that went beyond the job as District Attorney in a tiny little town like Port Charles, but it was only a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Force fed practically from birth by his father's own relentless need for power and prestige, they both had their eye on the governor's mansion.

Wasn't it bad enough that the people of New York continued to inflict Trevor on the whole country by voting for him? The man actually had a hand in dictating the fate of the country. But she couldn't throw any stones. People were blinded by the mask he wore. It was a convincing one; she had to give him that. She'd bought into it. And Ric studied at his father's knee so there was little wonder that she'd fallen for his lies as well.

She had a mask, but she didn't wear it quite as well as they did. It never had fit right.

Wiping away a smudge of mascara under her eye, Elizabeth decided she was ready – as ready as she was going to get anyway. Yet there was a hard ball of nerves knotting her stomach. She couldn't help but thinking that this might be the lat time she would ever have to dress for one of Ric's functions.

Would it be tonight? Tomorrow? The next day? When would Jason do it? And then, afterwards, when she was free, what was she going to do?

Conspiracy to commit murder; that kept running through her mind, sneaking up on her when she least expected it. She'd hired someone to murder her husband. If caught, she would probably spend the rest of her life in prison. Peering into the mirror, she asked herself if that wasn't so different from where she already was. Either way her life was over. Wasn't it better to take a chance on freedom; however she had to obtain it – even if the price was another human life?

It was a nagging question that had her picking up the phone a dozen times that afternoon to call it all off. As desperate as she was, she was not a murderer. However, the hit stood. She could not, iwould not/i trade her life for Ric's, because if things stayed as they were, she would surely die.

Mind racing, a bead of sweat sliding down her spine making her shiver, Elizabeth felt like she was going to throw up. It was too much. She couldn't take it.

Placing her head between her knees, she breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly until she felt a little steadier. There wasn't time for a proper meltdown. Ric would be home in twenty minutes. Sitting up slowly, Elizabeth ran a brush through her carefully straightened hair and freshened her lipstick.

"You can do this. You _have_ to do this." It was already done. She'd made her decision and it was too late to back out. The only thing left to do was live with it.

With that, she stood and went downstairs to wait for Ric like a good little wife. But she couldn't sit still. She had to keep moving, keep her mind occupied or else she would lose her grip on reality and become hysterical.

Obviously she was not cut out for this sort of thing. She lacked the guile to have any skill at lies and manipulation. Most likely another reason Ric had chosen her. It made it easier to keep her under his thumb. Elizabeth pushed all that out of her head and picked up her handbag. She checked its contents and discovered that she'd forgotten her house keys.

Leaving her purse on the coffee table, she went to the foyer where they always kept their keys in a floral patterned china bowl. Something shiny under the table caught her eye and she bent to pick it up. With a shrug, she stuck it in her pocket so she would remember to give it to Ric later, and then the lights went out.

Elizabeth gasped as she was submerged into darkness and then laughed at herself. A little dark never hurt anyone. She wasn't scared of the boogeyman. It was the flesh and blood one's she had a problem with.

The sound of her heels on the hardwood floors echoed in the still house as she made her way into the kitchen to check the fuse box. She was halfway to the utility room when she noticed the backdoor was ajar.

"That's odd," she muttered to herself, sure that it had been closed earlier. The cleaning woman must not have closed it all the way. She would have to talk to her about it before Ric found out. They'd gone through so many cleaning people that it was hard to find anyone and it was a big house, too big for her to keep up on her own, especially with Ric's high standards.

Elizabeth started forward to close it when an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream of terror.


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth fought as hard as she could as she was carried out of the house and bundled into the backseat of a waiting car. She'd lost a shoe in the melee and her kidnapper threw it in after her before he soundlessly closed the door. She heard the lock click into place but that did not stop her from yanking on the handle.

After years of just taking whatever was dished out, she was fighting back.

Ramming her shoulder into the door repeatedly in an attempt to force it open, she didn't pay any attention to her captor as he got behind the wheel and pulled off his black ski mask. It felt like she was going to dislocate her shoulder, but Elizabeth did not give up.

"Stop before you hurt yourself."

Freezing, Elizabeth turned, the fear abating marginally. She knew that voice. "W-what are you doing?"

"Saving your life. Put on your seatbelt," Jason said, watching her through the rearview mirror as the car eased away from the curb.

When she just sat there, gaping, he looked over his shoulder with a stern frown. "Seatbelt. Now."

Snapping her mouth closed, Elizabeth had to stop herself from crossing her arms across her chest and sticking her tongue out at him. Who did he think he was coming into her house and abducting her? That was not what she'd hired him for. Only her own steadfast belief in vehicle safety and the gun lying on the passenger seat kept her from the childish and useless gesture. Instead she jerked the seatbelt across her and fastened it.

"What do you mean 'saving _my_ life?'"

"Do you have a cell phone, pager, anything like that on you?" he asked as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"No. You didn't exactly give me a chance to get my purse before you hauled me out of my house against my will."

Jason grunted and she did cross her arms and glared at the back of his head. "What makes you think I need saving? Jason, I think I have a right to know what it going on," she said when he remained silent, panic still a bitter taste in her mouth, but instinct told her that he wouldn't hurt her. "Jason?"

"Because your father-in-law put a hit out on you this afternoon."

Bile rose in her throat. Leaning her cheek against the chilly glass of the window as she curled up on the seat in the fetal position with her eyes squeezed shut. Perhaps if she made herself small enough she would just disappear. How many times had she tried that only to find that it did not work? Reality was a bitch.

Of all the ways she'd imagined her death, she had never foreseen Trevor hiring a hitman to murder her. What had she done to deserve any of it other than marry the wrong man? Except for hiring that same hitman to kill her husband, Elizabeth felt that her conscious as clear. But Trevor couldn't know about the hit she'd put out on Ric …, could he?

Shivering as cold seeped into her bones; Elizabeth opened her eyes and for the first time, noticed where they were at. Trees lined both sides of the road, naked, their branches gnarled hands reaching out, beckoning her into the woods. The woods where icy grave on the outskirts of town awaited her.

Dizzy with the knowledge that this was the end, Elizabeth wasn't afraid. She did not cry. Instead there was a kind of serene acceptance rolling through her, erasing everything else. She'd been living on borrowed time for a quite a while. At least this way it might be quick and painless. Jason didn't seem cruel to her despite his occupation. The car slowed and glided to a stop on the gravel shoulder. Elizabeth said a short prayer, asking forgiveness for all her sins.

"Elizabeth," Jason said and she opened her eyes, met his.

"Its okay, Jason. Just get it over with."

The silence stretched out between them. Elizabeth calmly watching, mind blissfully blank, listening to her heart beat. Had she ever paid attention to how beautiful the sound was? How soothing the steady rhythm? It was a real shame that its beats were numbered.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"You aren't?" The statement as well as the anger in his voice surprised her.

"No." He turned around and scrubbed his hands over his face as if tired and needing to wake up.

"Why not?" The question was automatic. She was relieved that she'd been granted a reprieve, don't get her wrong, but that didn't stop her from wanting to know why he cared if she lived or died.

The easy answer was Sonny. He had, after all, recommended Jason and the whole idea to get rid of Ric permanently. They were both friends with Sonny and he could feel responsible because of that. She simply didn't know Jason well enough to know, well, anything about him other than he killed people for a living and looked good in denim and leather. He was a stranger.

A stranger that did not want to answer her questions, Elizabeth realized when he continued to stare at her with those eerie blue eyes that seemed capable of freezing a person's soul. Something told her that Jason didn't get a lot of questions in his job. People didn't tend to ask men with guns many questions, but that didn't mean she was going to stop. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that she was in over her head. There were things she needed to know; things that only he could tell her.

"What happens when I don't turn up dead?"

Jason shook his head as if to say that she didn't want to know, but she had to. She had to know, no longer content to live in the shadows while others made decisions for her. "Just tell me. I can take it."

"They'll come after us – or send someone after us more likely. That's why we have to get out of here."

Elizabeth couldn't think about what came next when she was just realizing what Jason had done for her. "They'll kill you too."

All expression left his face and he turned back around, starting the car. His lack of response was confirmation enough. A stranger was putting his life on the line for her. Elizabeth silently began to cry as Jason started driving again.

No one had ever tried to protect her from anything. Her parents couldn't be bothered with their youngest daughter, and her husband certainly didn't have any interest in her well-being. She supposed Sonny might care in his own distant way.

People didn't want to get involved. They turned a blind eye. She had read about people lying in the street, dying, while others stepped right over them. Most people believed in helping only themselves. There was no reasonable explanation that Jason, a contract killer, would willingly put himself at risk for someone he had just met.

To say she was grateful was an understatement and shock did not even begin to express how she felt. The past four years had been a living hell and even though she was away from Ric, he was still out there. He would come for her. He would kill her, and worse, Jason would die for helping her.

She was curled up with her head resting on the seat when the car came to a stop and Jason cut the ignition. Doing her best to wipe away the evidence of her tears, Elizabeth sat up and blinked. "Where are we?" she asked.

"A private airstrip," Jason said as he got out of the car.

Elizabeth got up on her knees and leaned over the front seat so she could look out the windshield. She could see a plane sitting on the runway behind the huge metal building. When Jason said they had to get out of town she didn't think he meant they would be flying. She didn't even have any identification. They would never let her on a plane.

When the door opened she almost fell on the floor and Jason reached out to steady her. He had a faded green duffle bag over his shoulder, the kind that they used in the military. The gun was no where to be seen but she knew he still had it.

"Put this on," he said, thrusting the leather coat she recognized as the one he'd been wearing the night before at the bar.

Slipping her shoes back on and getting out of the car, Elizabeth took the coat and put it on. It could have wrapped around her twice it was so big, but it was warm and she hadn't realized she was shivering until then. She ripped off the scarf around her neck and would have thrown it away but Jason stopped her.

"Cover your hair."

Obeying the order, she tried to cover as much of it as possible and tucked the rest under the collar of his coat. She almost asked him if he had a pair of sunglasses to complete the disguise, but he didn't give her a chance. He took her hand in his and towed her towards the plane.

"Don't talk to anyone," he said in a hissing whisper.

Elizabeth nodded and did her best to make herself invisible. When two men came out of the hanger, she turned her face in the other direction as if interested in the distant woods. Hopefully, all they would be able to say if anyone asked was that Jason had been traveling with a woman.

"Let's go," Jason said, tugging on her hand.

Eyes to the ground, she let him lead her to the little plane. She had only ever been on a commercial flight and the thought of flying in a plane not much bigger than a school bus had the contents of her stomach rebelling. Her face must have been green when Jason looked over at her because his brow furrowed and he gave the hand he held a reassuring squeeze.

"You'll be okay once we're in the air."

Elizabeth wasn't so sure about that but didn't believe that this was the time to talk about it. Squaring her shoulders, she nodded, even tried for a little smile. The door was already open and waiting, Jason urged her up the steps and told her to sit anywhere she wanted, but that only brought a whole new fear.

"Jason. The pilot," she said. Could they trust anyone to fly them out of there? How would she ever conceal herself for a whole flight? She didn't even know where they were going or how long it would take.

"It's my plane," Jason told her. "I'm the pilot."

Not sure whether knowing that made her feel any better, Elizabeth boarded the plane and looked around. It resembled the inside of an SUV. But smaller. Small, very, very small, she thought, chewing on her bottom lip, but nice. She would have to think of it as an adventure.

It wasn't everyday that she got to take a trip in a private airplane. Hadn't she longed for an adventure her whole life? To do something new and sort of scary, something to break up the monotony of everyday life just to say she'd done it? Inching towards the cockpit, she studied all the controls and dials. It was fascinating and she started wondering what they were all for and how they worked.

"You can sit up here with me if you want."

Embarrassing herself by squeaking like a frightened mouse, Elizabeth whirled around to find Jason behind her and quickly sat down in the co-pilot's seat when she realized how close they were standing. She hadn't really intended to sit up there but she'd forgotten how nervous he made her and didn't want to make a fool of herself any further. Fumbling with her seatbelt, she watched Jason take his seat out of the corner of her eye. He was even better looking up close.

She didn't want to notice things like that, but she wasn't dead. In the dimly lit and smoky bar it had been impossible for her to get a good look at him. It hadn't helped that he intimidated her so bad that she could barely meet his eyes and it had felt like everyone in the place knew what she was doing there. As he put on his headset and ran through whatever pilots did before takeoff, Elizabeth got the chance to check him out.

Blond streaked brown hair that was worn a little too long, so that it fell in his face and curled over his collar. Normally she liked her guys more on the clean cut side, but it suited him, softened the edges of those razor sharp cheekbones and slightly crooked nose. Plus with the leather jacket and motorcycle boots – not to mention his rather unusual occupation, Jason had 'Bad Boy' written all over him. In her younger days, that alone would have had her drooling, now it only made her more curious about why he was helping her.

The were in the air before she knew it and if Jason hadn't laid a hand on her arm to give her a little shake, she probably would have kept on running different theories through her head, each one more improbable than the last.

"Are you alright?"

Elizabeth blinked in confusion before she remembered that she had been airsick just looking at the plane. She smiled shyly. It was nice that someone actually took notice of her feelings and cared enough to ask. "I'm fine."

Jason nodded, absorbed in all the dials and the computer screens on the control panel. She was dying to ask a million questions about what they all meant and how hard it was to learn to fly, but she held her tongue. So far Jason hadn't been too talkative and she didn't want to irritate him. Ric didn't like when she asked too many questions.

"We'll be a while," he said. "You should sleep if you can. There's a blanket on one of the seats back there."

"Oh, okay." Elizabeth went and got the blanket even though she wasn't sleepy and used it as a pillow, wedged against the window and her shoulder. Jason's coat made a decent blanket, still nice and toasty from her body heat, and smelled faintly of the outdoors; the earthy odor of leather wasn't at all displeasing, pine trees and something else she couldn't quite identify but it was comforting. She closed her eyes, intent on just resting them for a little while. It wasn't long before she was sound asleep.

Jason increased the altitude of the little Cirrus jet and glanced over to see that Elizabeth was curled up on the seat like a cat, asleep, the glow from the control panel making her pale skin gleam like the pearls at her ears, luminous. Glad that she was getting some rest and would hopefully start to lose that wide-eyed haunted look that came from too much strain and not enough sleep that combined to make her appear so fragile.

It wasn't until he had carried her out of that monstrosity of a house that he realized just how tiny she really was. Even with the admirable fight she'd put up, he hadn't had any trouble bearing the burden. Probably didn't weight a hundred pounds soaking wet, he thought and wondered how any man could beat up on someone so small. It didn't seem right.

He kept telling himself that that was why he continued to get dragged deeper and deeper, but it wasn't as if he'd ever cared much about right and wrong before. As much as he'd like to, he couldn't lay the blame at Sonny's feet either – at least not completely. There was just something about her that got under his skin.

The unexpected blend of timid and bold, the intelligence and good humor shining through the sadness and dread in her eyes, both amused and captivated. All in all, Elizabeth was a difficult woman to ignore. However, that still didn't seem like a good enough reason to put his life on the line.

Accepting the assignment to kill Ric was one thing, but accepting the task of killing Elizabeth with the sole intention of protecting her was insane. It was suicide – and he wasn't just talking career-wise either. Smart people, one's that wanted to continue breathing, did not screw around with Lorenzo Alcazar.

If his Philly contact, who Alcazar subcontracted the hit out to hadn't known he was already in New York, Jason would never known that Elizabeth needed saving. Still, whatever had possessed him to take the job was probably going to get them both killed.

He didn't even have a plan.

All he knew was that they had to get out of Port Charles, and fast. That part he could handle as his plane was already there and other than Sonny and his guys at the hanger, no one knew about it. The hard part had been deciding where to hide Elizabeth. He wanted to see what happened when she just up and disappeared without a trace. Trevor wanted a messy accident that he could publicize and publicly mourn, but the result was the same, Elizabeth was out of the picture. It might be enough.

However, until he knew, he wanted her close. With any luck they'd get a few days to figure out what the next step was, and until then, Elizabeth was going home with him.

* * *

There was another airstrip in the middle of nowhere when Jason woke her up and got her off the plane and into a waiting pick-up truck while she was still too disoriented to ask questions. Wherever they were it was even colder than Port Charles. Elizabeth snuggled deeper into the borrowed coat and waited for the truck to warm up.

Looking as formidable as ever, Jason drove as he seemed to do everything else, with supreme confidence. Sleepily, Elizabeth gazed out the window, unable to discern an anything in the dark, but unworried that she didn't know where they were. Jason did and that was fine with her for the moment.

Jason cranked the heater up even more and positioned all the vents in her direction so that she was warm within minutes. Much more comfortable and alert, Elizabeth continued to look around for anything that might disclose their location. Finally there was a sign welcoming them to Freedom, Maine; population four hundred and twenty.

Smiling at the appropriateness of the town's name, Elizabeth ardently viewed what had to be the central thoroughfare. Little shops lined both sides of the deserted two lane road with a stop light at each end and a speed limit so low that they were practically at a crawl to insure that you did not fail to take in the blink-and-you'll-miss-it town.

It was charming. She longed to walk down the street one sunny day, exploring each shop and meeting the people that lived there. Almost pressing her nose against the glass as they left it behind, she grew sad because it was unlikely that she would ever have that luxury. Elizabeth sighed and faced forward again.

"Are you warm enough?"

Taken aback by the sudden question because it was the first time he'd spoken since they'd left the tiny airport and she was so unused to another person's concern, Elizabeth ducked her head, blushing. "Yes, thank you."

Jason turned down the heater and she noticed that he had the sleeves of his black t-shirt shoved up to his elbows. His forearms were thick with sinewy muscle. He could probably snap her like a dry twig if he wanted to, Elizabeth thought with a shiver of apprehension as they turned down an unpaved road.

The tires of the big truck crunched on the loose gravel as they traveled down a maze of unmarked roads, each darker and more desolate than the one before. Even as the tension of being alone in a strange place, with an even stranger man grew within her, Jason seemed to visibly relax.

After what felt like hours, they finally turned off onto a little lane and a lake came into view. The moonlight shone off the water making it glisten as if made of a million diamonds. There was even a weather-beaten boathouse that looked as if it had been pulled right out of a painting. So absorbed in the scenery, Elizabeth almost missed the house. It was made of logs, bigger than a cabin but still rough and totally at home in its surrounding woods.

Jason turned off the truck and pulled the keys from the ignition. Elizabeth glanced over at him and then back at the house.

"You live here," she said, surprised and utterly enchanted with the house's wide front porch, empty but obviously tended flowerboxes at the windows and an inviting yellow front door.

He nodded and got out of the truck, pausing to get his duffle bag out of the bed. All trepidation subsiding in her eagerness to see the inside, Elizabeth quickly followed, and was not disappointed.

Neither fancy nor rustic, the interior was nothing short of fantastic. There were no chairs with spindly legs that you were afraid to sit on or heavy drapes that collected dust as well as blocked the sun. Instead the furniture was large, overstuffed pieces that invited one to sit in front of the fire for hours, bare windows that allowed an unobstructed view of the lake and practically a whole wall, floor to ceiling, crammed with shelves and shelves of books. And everything smelled of pine trees.

Engrossed in her examination, Elizabeth never noticed when Jason disappeared. She went over to the shelves and trailed fingers down the spines of books from every genre, some bound in leather, others paperback and well worn from handling. She loved to read, to lose herself in another world for hours everyday, to escape her own dreary life for the fictional worlds born within the pages.

There were shelves devoted to nothing but travel books and she wondered if Jason had been to all those places or like her, only dreamed of one day seeing them. Reaching a hand up to take one off the shelf and then quickly withdrawing it when Jason reappeared with an armful of firewood as if she had been caught stealing, Elizabeth took several steps away from the library.

She stood awkwardly while he built a fire in the massive fireplace constructed of river rock. Her curiosity and enthusiasm tended to make her forget her place. Ric hated when she touched his things. This was Jason's home and she didn't want to be rude.

"Great house."

"I like it," he replied, dusting his hands on his jeans as he squatted in front of the fire as it slowly came to life. "I've been gone a couple of weeks so the heat was turned down. It'll be warm in a few minutes."

"I'm fine." Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she tried to think of something to say. There were probably dozens of things she should ask but none came to mind, so she just stood there.

Apparently satisfied with the fire, Jason stood. "Do you want the tour?" he asked, his back to her.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Sure."

There were three doors off the living room. The first door was to his room, the middle to the bathroom, and the last was to be her room. It was cozy with its own fireplace and a handmade quilt on the walnut sleigh bed.

"The office is upstairs with another half bath and the kitchen's back there," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the rear of the house. "Help yourself to whatever you want and if you can't find something, let me know."

"Thanks," she said for lack of anything better. It wasn't as if she was a real guest and it _had _to be just as weird for him to have her there as it was for her to be there.

"I'll get you something to wear tonight and if you'll make a list of what you'll need and sizes, I'll see that you get it all."

"I don't have any way to pay for it," she said, holding out her arms, hands swallowed by the sleeves of his coat as if to emphasize that she had nothing but the clothes on her back. That more than anything scared her just then. With literally nothing, how was she supposed to survive?

Even if she got away, she had no way of supporting herself. Someone else had always taken care of her; first her parents and then Ric. She'd never had a job and her college degree was basically worthless. It was truly daunting, but Elizabeth made up her mind right then and there that she could and would stand on her own two feet.

She had a good brain. It was about time she started using it.

"Don't worry about that right now," Jason told her as he stood in the doorway. "We'll figure it out later."

"Okay." It was impossible to think about anything at that moment when she was practically dead on her feet. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the blankets over her head, and shut out the world.

Jason gave her a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, both too big, but she made it work.

Once the lights were off and she was comfortably burrowed under the covers, she could not close her eyes. Her brain was working overtime and would not turn off. Too much had happed and thinking about what was to come only made her anxious.

Tossing and turning, balling the pillows up under her head, Elizabeth screwed up her eyes and tried to force herself to go to sleep. It didn't work. She was wide awake.

Exasperated, she threw off the covers and sat up. Maybe if she had something to occupy her mind for awhile it would help her to unwind. Thinking about all those books in the other room made her decide to take Jason up on his offer to help herself.

Creeping out into the living room, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep, Elizabeth was halfway across the room, assisted by the flames burning bright in the hearth, when he spoke.

"Can't sleep?"

Whirling in the direction of his voice, she said, "I thought you'd be asleep."

"Guess not," he said, lifting a bottle to his lips and drinking deeply, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat.

"I thought I'd borrow a book."

"There are more upstairs if nothing down here suits you."

"More?" she asked incredulously.

He made a sound of ascent deep in his throat and opened another bottle. "Want a beer?"

The question was so unexpected and normal that she laughed. No one had asked her that since college, which had been the last time she'd had a drink of any sort. Ric didn't want her to become an alcoholic like her mother – it wouldn't look good to the voters.

"Love one."

* * *

"Elizabeth's gone," Ric said as he entered the study. "We were supposed to have dinner with the Mayor and his wife tonight, but when I went home for her, she wasn't there. I waited and she never came home."

Trevor eyed his son blandly over the report he'd been reading. Lorenzo's people worked fast, he thought with a private little smile. Her body would probably be found by tomorrow morning. The press release was already written and ready for Ric to read a few hours after that. It would be a work of art.

"Her car and her purse are at the house. She wouldn't go anywhere without her purse," Ric said, the nasal whine that irritated Trevor coming into his voice.

"I wouldn't worry about Elizabeth, son. I've taken care of it."


	4. Chapter 4

"_You bitch!" _

_He backhanded her across the face and she fell to her knees, a cry stuck in a throat constricted by fear. _

"_You think you can leave me?! You're nothing without me! Nothing, do you hear me?"_

_Her head jerked backwards from the next blow and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Pinpricks of light floated in front of her vision when he fisted a hand in her hair and forced her face up to his._

"_I own you."_

_Silent tears ran down her pale cheeks. Too weak to fight and nowhere left to run, she gave up. When he pulled out a gun she began to shake and heard herself beg. "Please, Ric, don't." _

Elizabeth jerked up in bed, the gunshot still ringing in her ears and almost fell out of bed. Breathing raggedly, she searched the shadows, expecting Ric to melt out of them. When she was reasonably sure that no one was there, she scrambled out of bed with a hand clamped over her mouth, and ran for the bathroom.

With the cold white tiles biting into her bare knees, she emptied the contents of her stomach. All of a sudden there was someone there, pulling her hair back, running a soothing hand down her back, and wiping her face and neck with a wet washcloth.

Shivering uncontrollably, she collapsed against him, too sick to be embarrassed. Elizabeth took the rag from him and wiped her mouth, smothering the sobs building deep within her chest.

The dream was so real, and yet she knew while it was happening that it wasn't, but could not fight her way out of it and into consciousness. Was that to be her future? Was she only prolonging the inevitable? Those were the questions that haunted her and made her stomach churn.

"Are you okay?" Jason asked, his voice low at her ear as he pulled a wet strand of hair from her cheek.

Elizabeth shook her head. She hadn't been okay in a very long time.

Jason stood up with her in his arms and carried her out of the bathroom. Exhausted and miserable, she laid her head on his shoulder. Reminded herself that it wasn't a sign of weakness to accept help when needed, it was smart – as long as she didn't get too used to it.

"I need to brush my teeth," was her only quiet protest.

"Do it in the morning," he replied as he put her back in bed and covered her with the quilt. Smoothing the damp hair from her forehead, he eyed her somberly for a moment before walking away. At the door he turned. "You're safe here, Elizabeth."

* * *

"Fucking bitch," Ric snarled as he dumped the contents of the drawer on the floor and kicked at the pile of lingerie as if they were soiled.

The entire house was ransacked. Books were pulled from the shelves, some ripped from their covers, china smashed in the kitchen, the beds were pulled from their frames and left leaning drunkenly against walls and now he resorted to pawing through the dressers like a common thief.

"What in the hell did she do with it?" he asked himself and went into the bathroom.

Pulling every towel, sheet and pillowcase from the linen closet, he carried on the tirade against she wife in his head. She was trying to ruin him, he just knew it. She had never respected him. Always questioning and judging him. She'd always thought she was better than him.

"Bitch. Whore. Slut," he spat, upending the basket filled with her make-up and grinding it into dust.

He never should have married her, but his father insisted. "Stupid old man," Ric said and wished that just once he would stand up to his father and tell him exactly what he thought of him.

Smashing bottles of perfume in the sink and emptying the contents of the medicine cabinet, he railed against the man he called father. All of it was his fault. Always pushing and pushing. Nothing was ever good enough. _He_ was never good enough.

Now it was gone.

Trevor had finally showed some faith in him, asked him to do one simple thing, and he'd screwed it up. What was he going to do? He had to find it before his dad found out. She'd done it. That bitch had found it somehow and hidden it from him.

Turning in a circle, taking in the destruction, he desperately tried to think of where she could have put it. So small it could be anywhere; the possibilities were endless. She wasn't _that_ smart. Couldn't even follow the simplest directions so that he had to remind her over and over again, but she never listened.

Crouching beside the toilet he felt behind the tank and when his fingers brushed against something, felt euphoria race through his veins.

It died quickly as he pulled out the object and discovered it was not what he sought, but another betrayal by his whore wife.

He turned the birth control pills over in his hands again and again so blind with rage that he would have delightedly killed her given the chance. She knew how badly Trevor wanted a baby. She had gone with him to all those specialists, sat beside him with that deceptively innocent expression on her face while the doctor's questioned his manhood, and all the while knew she would not get pregnant no matter what they said.

Flinging them at the wall, Ric stood in the bathroom, breathing so hard his chest heaved with the effort and curled his hands into fists. The whole world was against him. Not even his wife stood by him. He'd given her everything she could ever want and this was how she repaid him.

"Richard! What is this?"

Turning in the direction of his father's voice, Ric carefully schooled his expression. He had failed and he would have to pay the consequences.

"It's gone."

"What's gone?" Trevor asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I had it," Ric said, holding out his empty hands. "I had it and now it's gone. She took it. I know she did."

"You aren't making any sense, son."

"I looked everywhere. Everywhere she could have hidden it," Ric said, his eyes frantically scanning the destruction, vainly hoping that it would sudden appear. "I don't know how she got it. I thought … I'm positive I put it in my pocket."

"Yes, yes," Trevor said placating him and put an arm around his shoulders. "Let's go have some coffee – providing you didn't break the coffeemaker."

It was a lame attempt at humor and Ric did not bother to fake a laugh. There was nothing remotely funny about the situation. His father was going to hit the roof when he learned of his latest failure. On the verge of tears, he glanced over at Trevor and said, "I'm sorry, dad. So, so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Richard. It can be cleaned up and replaced. You just have to learn to control your temper better."

Ric jerked out of the loose hold, staggering a little on unsteady feet. "Not the house. Fuck the house." He kicked at a pile of clothes ripped from her closet in frustration. "I lost the flash drive."

Trevor spun around, the back of his hand colliding with enough force to send Ric to his knees. "You incompetent fool."

Ric put a hand to his stinging cheek, cowering in fear of the next blow. Once his father lost his temper there was no telling what he was capable of doing. "It was _her_. Elizabeth."

* * *

There was an entire marching high school marching band in her head. And the beat was off.

The sunlight streaming through the window hurt her eyes even though they were closed. Elizabeth rolled over and almost fell out of bed. Her hand shot out for the nightstand to save herself and knocked over a bottle of aspirin in the process. Fully awake and aware of the hangover she knew was the result of the alcohol she'd consumed and the nightmare that had followed, she groaned and curled up into a little ball.

One and a half beers and she felt like a piece of used gum; chewed up and spit out. On the plus side she had gotten some much needed sleep, but that had only left her vulnerable to the fears voiced by her subconscious. Contrary to what Jason said, she wasn't sure if she was safe there. She wasn't sure if she would be safe anywhere, but at least she was out of Port Charles.

Feeling a little steadier, she opened one eye to test things out. The room wasn't spinning and she didn't feel like puking, both a marked improvement. Taking a chance, she opened her other eye and slowly sat up. There was no clock in the room so she didn't know what time it was, but it wasn't as if she had any place she needed to be. For the first time in recent memory she could stay in bed all day if she wanted. Jason would hardly care; probably be glad to have her out of his hair for awhile after all the trouble she'd caused him.

Remembering how kind he had been to her, Elizabeth closed her eyes on a wave of emotion. So unused to the most basic displays of human decency it was little wonder that it had her all choked up. When was the last time anyone had cared about her in the slightest? she wondered, and knew that it was a rare occurrence indeed.

Reaching for the aspirin and the bottle of water, she mentally added thoughtful to the growing list of Jason's positive attributes. For a murderer he was a very nice man. Scary, but nice nevertheless.

So hallowed out, the three pills she swallowed felt like lead in her stomach, making her feel nauseous all over again. It was very tempting to hide out all day with her head buried, but she couldn't allow herself to do that. There were things to do. What things she didn't know but she never would if she didn't ask. Moving at a snail's pace, she sat on the edge of the bed.

Toes curling into the soft rag rug on the otherwise bare wood floor, she waited for either her head to explode or the roaring in her ears to stop. No wonder she didn't drink, the aftereffects were so not worth it.

Wanting nothing more at that moment than a hot shower, Elizabeth made herself get up and scuffle towards the door. It was then that she saw all the bags piled by the armoire and remembered Jason's promise to get her some clothes. Hangover momentarily forgotten, she dove into the bags as if it was Christmas morning.

* * *

Jason was taking the muffins out of the oven when his cell phone rang. A quick glance at the display showed that it was his Philly contact. It looked as if his time was up. He had hoped for a few days to figure out what his next move was but it didn't look like he was going to get it.

"Morgan," he bit out, the phone nestled between his shoulder and chin as he dumped the muffins into a lined basket.

"_So you are still alive?" Luke Spencer drawled. "I was sure that you had to be dead or next to if you couldn't manage to take out a helpless housewife in the boonies. The client was very specific, Jason."_

"Plans change."

"_Don't tell me you let her suck you in," Luke said, a rusty chuckle ending in a chest rattling cough. "She's a looker, I'll give her that, but she ain't worth your life." _

"That's my decision."

"_True. Very true. Would it make a difference if I told you that Lorenzo Alcazar just left here no more than five minutes ago? Showed up here unannounced, smoked my cigars, drank my booze, and then very politely threatened to kill me and my whole family if I don't produce the girl. Hardly the first time I've heard that, but I don't like it when people threaten me or mine, Morgan. Don't like it at all. And the way I see it, this is all on you. You took the job and didn't follow through – unless Mrs. Lansing is dead and you're just playing coy. You wouldn't do that to me, would you, Jason?"_

"They wanted her gone; she's gone."

Shit. He knew he should have taken the time to fake Elizabeth's death, but there just hadn't been time for such a complicated maneuver. It seemed more important to get her out of there as soon as possible. He'd known it was a risk, but there was still a chance that he could make them think she really was dead if it came to it.

"_Well, now they want her back," Luke snapped._

"Why?"

"_How the hell would I know? Either kill her or send her back to the bum-fuck town you got her from. I do not want to have to send Alcazar out to that cute little house in Maine after you." _

The blood froze in his veins. No one was supposed to know about the cabin. The deed was listed under an alias and Elizabeth was the first person he had ever brought home with him. He had an apartment in Queens and another in Chicago where his mail went and calls could be routed from, but Freedom was his home. It was supposed to be safe.

"_You didn't honestly think that you could keep it a secret forever, did ya, Morgan?" Luke asked the gloating smile apparent in his voice even over the phone. _

When Jason spoke his voice was low, lethal, and left little doubt that he meant every word. "How's your daughter, Luke? She still in that boarding school in New Hampshire? I bet if I flew down there and asked, little Lulu would get right in the car with me."

"_You sonofabitch!" _

"That's right," Jason responded with a smirk, although he hated to resort to threatening innocent teenagers he was well aware that he walked a knife's edge of danger and that the people with whom he dealt were far from upstanding citizens. "You have a whole lot more to lose than I do, Luke. You should remember that the next time you decide to start throwing threats around."

Jason snapped the phone closed to end the call; cutting off Luke's profanity laced response, and calmly poured another cup of coffee. He wanted to put his hand through a wall, but that wouldn't serve any purpose and more than likely require a trip to the emergency room. Instead, he went out to the garage to work off some of the aggression. He might even be able to come to some sort of reason why Lansing would possibly want Elizabeth back today when just yesterday he'd wanted her dead.

Not that it mattered, he wasn't getting her back.

* * *

After a long shower and a blueberry muffin, Elizabeth felt almost human again. That she was alone in the house was a little disconcerting. It wasn't as if she was a prisoner or anything, and she would hardly run off on the one person willing to help her, but she didn't think Jason would just up and leave her without saying anything. Not that he owed her any explanations. She just wasn't sure how to act in the strange environment.

She'd hung around in the living room for a little while and waited for him to show up, but had gotten bored and decided to have a look around instead. If she found him, fine. If not, well, he was bound to come back at some point.

It had started to rain but she was nice and warm in her new jeans and wool peacoat as she happily stomped through the leaves and muck in the sturdy brown boots Jason had bought her. While she didn't particularly like the idea of him picking out her underwear, she had to admit that he'd done a decent job overall. Everything fit and was practical as well as comfortable – more comfortable than all the clothes she'd left behind in Port Charles.

The designer suit that was all that remained of her old life and it was in a rumpled pile in the corner of her room, never to be worn again. She'd taken off her wedding rings and put them in the nightstand drawer to be pawned the first chance she got. Gazing down at her hand, she thought it was amazing how much lighter it seemed.

Feeling like a new whole new woman, Elizabeth sensed a spring in her step as she rounded the house and saw the detached garage with lights burning in the windows of what she assumed to be a workshop. The big black truck they'd driven last night was parked in front of the structure which meant that Jason had to there. Shrugging, she went to check it out.

As she stood in the open doorway she couldn't do anything but stare in amazement. Just when she thought she was starting to get a handle on who he was, he went and did something completely unexpected. The room was bright and filled with several pieces of furniture in various stages of completion. Jason stood in front of a saw, protective eyewear concealing his brilliant blue eyes as he competently ran a plank of the fragrant wood through the spinning blade.

He must have caught a glimpse of her because he looked up and beckoned her into the workshop before going back to what he was doing. Her curiosity won out over the hesitancy and she wandered around the room admiring the handmade furniture. The room smelled of wood shavings and wasn't at all unpleasant, although it did tickle her nose. It was a good earthy smell, clean and reassuring.

The tools were fascinating, but she kept her hands tucked securely in her pockets, and the furniture was spectacular. Now she understood why everything seemed so perfect for the house, it was made for it … by the man that lived there. There was one piece in particular that she was drawn to, a rocking chair with roses carved into headrest. The wood was so smooth it felt like silk when she ran her hand over it and it had a certain natural glow to it. And the roses, it had to take a great deal of patience and talent to carve something so intricate and beautiful.

She was impressed, and, with a quick glance in his direction, admitted that it made him more than a little attractive. Not many guys would be comfortable enough with their own masculinity to spend so much time on things so connected with femininity as flowers. It also made her curious who it was for. He could be married for all she knew, but the house was so devoid of a feminine touch that she doubted it.

A girlfriend was a very real possibility. Even though he had some rough edges, there was some real gentleness in him. That helped balanced things out, she thought as she traced a finger over the roses. None of that changed who he was though. She'd be a fool to forget that he was a killer, literally. Not that she was in a place to judge.

She, who had blindly married a man she didn't really know, one that said and did all the right things and it shamed her to admit that it had been her mistake. It wasn't her fault that Ric hit her. She didn't _make _him do it as he liked to tell her, and she was finally able to accept that, but she'd married him for all the wrong reasons.

She had married him because her parents wanted her to and she'd wanted to make them proud of her just once. The unplanned and unwanted child, never good enough when compared to her older sisters, and always getting into trouble. Her mother had never let her forget what a burden she was to them.

The ugly truth was that she'd wanted out.

Getting away from her family was her number one reason for accepting Ric's proposal after dating only three weeks. Two months later they'd been married in what the papers romanticized as a whirlwind affair. Ric had told the reporters that always seemed to be hanging around that it had been love at first sight for him. She had said nothing as no one had asked.

It was stupid, but she'd believed that by marrying Ric and moving half a continent away that she was earning her freedom. If only she'd known then that she was only damning herself to a life of fear and isolation.

"How are you feeling?"

Startled, Elizabeth turned around and found that Jason had turned off the saw and was standing a few feet from her at another workbench assembling the pieces he'd just cut. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she smiled ruefully. "Sorry I woke you last night."

Jason shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"I just feel dumb, you know."

"Everyone has nightmares."

"Do you?" If she could snatch the questions back out of the air, she would. Her brain couldn't always keep up with her mouth. It was a problem.

"Yes."

She hadn't expected him to answer and the way he looked at her made her believe him. "Do you dream about what you saw in the Army … or what you do now?"

When he put down his tools and leaned a hip against the workbench so he could look at her, Elizabeth knew she'd said too much. "I, um, saw a set of dogtags in the bathroom drawer. I was looking for toothpaste, not snooping." Dropping her head and letting her hair fall to cover her face, she said, "Sorry."

"Both," Jason answered, causing her to raise her head. "I dream about both."

He went back to work and she thought that the conversation was over, but he surprised her by asking, "What do you want out of all this?"

"You mean now that I'm away from Ric?"

Jason nodded.

Biting her lip, reluctant to voice her desires, Elizabeth stuffed her hands back into the pockets of the coat and curled them into fists. If he could be honest with her then she could do the same, and it seemed like an important question – probably the most important question one could ask at the moment.

"A new life."

He scratched the side of his face and glanced over at her as if weighing her response and then inclined his head. "We can do that."


	5. Chapter 5

Jason was in over his head and he knew it. He was a man that preferred his own company. That was why he lived in the middle of nowhere without a single neighbor around for miles in any direction. He could go for months without seeing or speaking to another person and that was the way he liked it.

So who in the hell did he think he was taking on the problems of someone he didn't know? Elizabeth probably needed professional counseling. Despite the air of calm acceptance and determination to put it all behind her she all but exuded, she was a ticking time bomb of repressed emotion. And he was ill-equipped to handle it when the dam broke; it was only a matter of time before that happened. Even though she was putting up a pretty good front, people who were in control and felt safe did not wake up screaming two nights in a row from nightmares that literally made them sick.

However, there was something in him, some minuscule shred of empathy that had survived and she had managed to awaken, that made him want to help her – he just didn't know how.

What could he say to make her feel better when he already knew that words were meaningless? What could he do to make her believe that she was safe when they both knew she wasn't? How could he make her trust him when he didn't trust anyone himself? All he had to offer her was space and time until he could give her the new life he'd promised.

Although where he got off promising her anything was beyond him.

He supposed he felt responsible for her since he had saved her life. That was fine. He didn't mind helping someone if he could, but he killed people for a living. That was just the way it was, and there was no denying the reality it presented. He was good at his job. It didn't make him right or just but it was the life he had chosen, and he was content with the existence he'd managed to carve out for himself – for the most part. Elizabeth was a threat to all of that.

It wasn't her fault, but she was fucking with his life. Any inconvenience paled in comparison to what she was going through, but he couldn't help but resent the intrusion. It also didn't help that he had to work from home because she couldn't be left alone. Even if he could guarantee her safety out there alone, he understood that she did not want to be alone. Strangers thought they may be she did not like to be by herself. He didn't mind the invasion of his former solitude because he knew that she was afraid of her own shadow, but it did make working difficult. It meant delegating and that involved some level of trust in those that worked with him.

No one worked _for_ him; just as he did not work for anyone buy himself. He'd been a cog in the machine and hadn't much liked it. Now he lived on the fringes and answered to no one. He made his own rules.

His number one rule had been to never get involved with a client or a target, Elizabeth was both, and he'd had to comfort himself with the maxim that rules were meant to be broken and that for once, he was doing the right thing. Not that it mattered anymore.

Elizabeth Lansing was dead.

* * *

Elizabeth Lansing had been missing for over twenty-four hours, the standard time before a missing person's report could be filed, but as her husband was the District Attorney, strings could have been pulled. And despite his tearful declarations of love and fervent pleas for help, Lieutenant Marcus Taggert knew a con when he saw one.

Scowling, he watched as Ric finished up the press conference he was holding on the front steps of the PCPD, television cameras and crews spilling into the building, getting in the way of the people trying to keep the city of Port Charles safe. When Slick Ric, as he liked to call him, broke down in tears, Taggert rolled his eyes, collected his things and went in to an empty interrogations room.

If Lansing cared one lick about his wife, he would eat his badge.

It wasn't as if he disliked the man, he despised him and had since the very moment they'd met, and as far as he could tell, the feeling was entirely mutual. Even though he had a natural distaste for politicians, especially ones that tended to cut deals with the scum that he and his brothers in blue worked hard to but away, but there was something else. Taggert knew a liar when he saw one, and Richard Lansing seemed to be allergic to the truth.

It was just bad luck for both of them that he'd been assigned the case.

Flipping open the pitifully thin file, Taggert stared at a recent photograph of Elizabeth Lansing. She was a pretty woman with an elegant, lovely face, and kind smile. Sad eyes though, he decided with a frown and wondered what had put that look there. Known to be a friendly woman it was odd that no one really knew her. The people she worked with on various projects could tell him basic information, but none could tell him who her friends were, if she had family in the area, or the places she frequented. As for himself, though they had only shared a passing acquaintance, he'd thought of her as a shadow, soft-spoken and shy, always in the background, behind her husband, lending silent support. Not that the kind of woman to leave her husband, on that point everyone had agreed.

Setting aside the photograph because as much as he wished otherwise, it would not tell him the answers he sought, and looked over the notes he and others had taken. Her purse had been found on the hall table where she had presumably left it. What woman left her house without her purse? Without either driver's license or credit card? The one year old luxury sedan she drove was parked in the garage and according to the Lansing's bank statements; she hadn't withdrawn so much as a dime in the past two weeks.

"Can't get far without money or transportation," he muttered and made a note to dig deeper into their finances both together and separately. Money was a huge motivator and often the best trail. Mrs. Lansing would hardly be the first woman to keep a little nest egg hidden from her husband.

It was his job to check all the angles, but his first and last thought was foul play. He did not relish the thought of discovering someone so young dead. Not even if it meant the chance to root through Lansing's closets to see what kind of skeletons he was hiding – the spouse was always the number one suspect in cases like these. He bet Ric had some doozies too.

"Hey," Detective Cruz Rodriguez said, coming into the room and dropping an evidence bag on the table.

"Hers?" Taggert asked, examining the wedding rings in the clear plastic bag.

"Lansing identified them as his wife's. He'd know."

"Wouldn't bet on it," Taggert replied with a sneer. What kind of husband didn't know what color his wife's eyes were or if she had any medical conditions? There were a lot of screwy things about the whole case. "Where'd you get them?"

"We've got a guy who claims to have seen a woman matching Elizabeth Lansing's description jumping off the pier two nights ago. He found the rings on the ground when he went to see if she popped back up – she didn't."

Taggert cursed and wrote down the new lead with a question mark. Wedding rings in lieu of a suicide note, he supposed that worked. Interesting that she would choose a symbol of her commitment to her husband and marriage over something more concrete like a driver's license though, he thought, tapping his pencil on the notepad. Whoever found them was more likely to pawn them than seek out the police. She had to have known that. Was she trying to tell them something or was she just so distraught logic was beyond her at that point?

Shoving back from the table, he stood and gathered his things once more. "The tech guys down at the scene?"

"Yes. The diver's are ready to go too."

Rubbing a hand over his bald head, Taggert sighed. "Chances are the body has already been washed out to sea, but we've gotta make sure. I want to talk to this guy and then head down there. Where's Lansing?"

"Lying down in the commissioner's office. He fainted when he heard the news."

"Good. See that someone keeps him out of my way," Taggert said, shrugging on his overcoat. "You coming?"

"I'll be right there," Cruz replied with a grim smile. When Taggert was out of sight, he closed the door and pulled out his cell phone.

* * *

Jason was upstairs in his office when he got the text message, '_It's done_.' While it made him feel marginally better, he knew it was only a temporary fix for the much bigger problem. There were too many unknowns for his liking.

Luke was handled; he would never let any harm come to his only daughter, so Jason wasn't actively worried about him, but was aware that it could become an issue later. However, he still believed that staying where they were was their best bet. He knew the area and anything he might need was close at hand. And in the unlikely event he had to bring the cops into things he would rather do it on his own turf.

Alcazar was a concern. Largely because he didn't know what the South American's interest was in the situation. He was an arms dealer; he shouldn't have been arranging a hit on an unthreatening presence like Elizabeth. There was no way she had anything to do with his business.

That left him with two options, neither very attractive. Either Alcazar knew something about Elizabeth's relationship with Sonny that he didn't, and was using her to get to the coffee importer/money launderer, or he was working with one or both of the Lansings. The Sonny angle wasn't one he particularly wanted to explore, because for one thing, Elizabeth deserved better. Sonny went through women like Kleenex and even he knew that was the last thing she needed after the terror of her marriage.

Not that he was one to talk. At least Sonny usually married his conquests. Jason relationships – and he used that term loosely – didn't last long enough for the subject of marriage to come up. His life hadn't been conductive to that sort of entanglement for a long time, not since he'd left home at eighteen. However, if Elizabeth wanted her new life to include Sonny, far be it for him to stand in her way. Either way, he couldn't ignore the possibility that his friend was at the root of the problem, but it just didn't ring true.

There was something bigger at work, he could feel it. It was fairly well known - in certain circles anyway - that Alcazar moved arms for the U.S. government. Trevor was a senator. They could travel in the same circles down in D.C., have a friend or two in common. That sounded like a plausible connection to him and it would not come as a surprise to learn that Trevor was dirty.

The question was why Trevor would put a hit out on his daughter-in-law only to recall it the next day. It didn't make sense … unless Elizabeth had somehow become useful to him in that time period.

Jason shut down the computer and went downstairs. He found her curled up on the couch watching the fire with a mug of tea cupped in her hands as if trying to warm them. She always seemed to be cold even though he had the heat cranked way up and fires lit in both the living room and her bedroom. It was possible that she was in shock, but if she was, she was holding it together well.

It was because she looked so serene sitting there that he almost turned back around, but there were some things that could not wait.

Purposely scuffing his feet so as not to startle her, he went and sat in the chair. From there he could see her and she could see him, although she acted as if he wasn't there, staring blankly ahead but was no longer relaxed, posture tense, ready to either run or fight.

With a sigh, he forged ahead. "We need to talk."

She inhaled raggedly, fingers curling even tighter around the ceramic mug, and shrugged.

"It is now believed that you committed suicide the night you disappeared."

He hated that he'd said it so coldly, should have found a way to break the news more gently. Suicide was such a taboo topic for most people. He was sorry that Elizabeth hadn't got to go out with more dignity, but it was a solid plan. She knew that he intended to fake her death, but she'd left all of it up to him.

Her face was weary when she looked at him. "How?"

He almost asked why it mattered, but thought better of it. She had a right to know. "Drowned. Jumped off the docks and drowned."

She nodded and faced forward again without even a flicker of emotion. That worried him.

"There was a witness and they have your wedding rings," he explained, wanting to reassure her.

"Her. Her wedding rings," she corrected.

"What?"

"I'm dead … or at least the person I was is dead. _She_ killed herself. I'm alive, don't know who _I_ am, but I'm still alive."

Jason didn't know whether to be impressed that she could disassociate herself so quickly or scared for her. It was not easy to leave behind the only life you knew, no matter how horrible the circumstances. He knew that from experience. Yet for their purposes it was perfect. Time was of the essence and slipping away from them quickly.

"That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "You need to pick a new name so we can start building an identity."

She tilted her head to the side, curious. "I get to pick?"

Nodding, he said, "Nothing exotic, but nothing too plain either. It can't be anything close to your name, like Ellen or something."

"Can I think about it?"

"Take a day, but I'll need one soon." The right name was important and even though another day put a crimp in the already sketchy timetable he'd put together, he didn't want to rush her. He had a feeling that she hadn't had much of a say in her own life the past few years. She was the one that would have to live with whatever she chose for the rest of her life, and what was another day anyway?

She sipped her tea and went back to ignoring him. It didn't bother him. He also found that it didn't bother him to sit in the room with her, listening to the fire crackle and snap and the rain hitting the windows without either of them searching for something to say to fill what should have been an uncomfortable silence.

Growing up the silences had been rife with tension, creeping into every corner and under the doors until the whole house – for it had never been home – had been thick with it. Thick enough to choke on and threaten to strangle the life out of you until there was nothing left but a shell. Worse than the silence had been the harsh whispers of discontent and hate. Yelling would have been preferable, but then someone might have heard, shattering the perfect veneer of a loving family. A family to be admired and envied by outsiders and privately detested by those unfortunate enough to be born into it.

As soon as he'd been old enough and after years of quietly plotting his escape, he had quit playing their games. He had yelled and thrown things. He had pushed back when they tried to force him into the niche carved out long before his birth. They'd refused to see that he did not fit, did not want to fit. So he'd let them continue plan his life for him and when he'd graduated high school, he'd left.

Walked out of the family mansion, left behind the privilege and wealth that was his birthright, and forged his own path. He had not looked back. Now he saw Elizabeth on the cusp of that same move and wondered if she would regret what he did not. If she would long for the stability and familiarity of her old life when things got tough – and they would get much harder before they got better.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't his problem, but it didn't work too well. Like it or not, and he did not, he was invested.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hi, I'm Renee."

Elizabeth peered into the mirror, examining her reflection, and tried again. "I am Renee."

It was a perfectly common name, not too unusual or too plain. Everyone knew at least one Renee in their lifetime. But did she look like a Renee?

According to the website she'd been using to research possible new names for herself, Renee meant reborn in French. She liked that because that was essentially what she was; reborn.

Thanks to Jason she had a chance to start over again as a new person. She had options for the first time in a very long time. She could be anybody she wanted, do anything, go almost anywhere, but all she saw when she looked in the mirror was Elizabeth.

There was nothing remarkable about her. Same plain face with eyes so large they dominated the pale oval and lips that resembled a clown's when she smiled really big. No red lipstick for her that was for sure. Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth she pulled the rubberband out of her hair and let the wild waves fall around her shoulders.

Maybe she should dye it another color to make herself less recognizable, but was anything more inconspicuous than boring brown? The point wasn't to stand out but blend in and she would probably be more noticeable if she was a blond or a redhead. It would have to be out of a box anyway and you could always tell a bottle job when you saw one.

Sighing heavily, Elizabeth met her own gaze in the silvered glass. Physical appearance didn't really matter. She would be moving someplace no one knew her, it was how she felt inside that counted. If she believed that she was Renee then others would too.

It was just a name. No one ever said she looked like an Elizabeth; it was simply the name that her parents had given her. They could have just as easily called her Jane or Mary or Susan … or even Renee. It wasn't as if they took one look at you at birth and said, "Oh, she looks like a Lucy." You just got used to being called a certain name and it eventually became part of your identity.

Except for people that legally changed their names.

She'd never thought much about that. There was no law saying that you had to keep the name you were saddled with, and in some cases that was a good thing. Parents didn't always account for how cruel children really could be. The wrong name had the possibility of leading to a lifetime of trauma.

Being Elizabeth had nothing but bad memories attached to it. Why would she want to be Elizabeth? Ditching the name was a good thing.

* * *

"Angela," Jeff Webber called as he closed the front door and shrugged out of his coat.

It was snowing again and he'd been tempted to spend the night at the hospital as he had every other night that week, but the phone call he'd received sent him racing out into the miserable weather.

"Angela," he shouted when his wife did not answer.

"Mr. Jeff," Tina, their newest housekeeper said as she came hustling out of the kitchen. She took his coat and briefcase with a smile. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Ms. Angela is in the living room … resting."

_Shit_. "Thank you, Tina," he said with a tight smile.

Resting was the codeword for drunk and Angela needed lots of rest those days. She'd been what was more commonly referred to as a functioning alcoholic for years, but the stress and humiliation of a second malpractice suit and subsequent suspension had pushed her right over the edge into fulltime drunk.

He wanted to send her to rehab, but knew that she would never agree, and the resulting fight was more than he could handle at the moment. Maybe later, as soon as things calmed down a little, he kept telling himself and knew it was a lie. He just didn't want to have to confront his wife's problems head on.

Exhausted from the six hours he had just spent in surgery and the distressing call he'd gotten directly afterwards, all he wanted was a hot shower and eight hours uninterrupted sleep that he knew he would never get. The smell of roast beef coming from the kitchen gave him hope that he might get a decent meal at the very least before he had to go back to the hospital.

Jeff found Angela stretched out on the white settee in front of the unlit fireplace, her blond hair laid out around her like a halo and blue eyes closed. There was also an empty glass dangling from lifeless fingers.

His green scrubs rustled as he crossed the room and snatched the glass from her. She snored softly and rolled onto her side. Suddenly so angry he couldn't stand it, he hurled the glass into the fireplace.

"W-what?" Angela said, lifting her head and looking around sluggishly. "Oh, you're home."

"Yes." Standing over her with hands on hips, glaring at the stranger that was his wife, Jeff began to wonder if it any of it was worth it. They never talked anymore, never went anywhere or did anything together. All they did when they were together was fight.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" he demanded.

Angela lurched to her feet and over to the bar. "Do you want a martini? I could use a martini."

"I got a call from a Lieutenant Taggert in Port Charles at the hospital," Jeff said, ignoring her offer and without trying to stop her from having a drink herself. "Apparently our daughter disappeared three days ago and no one thought to tell me."

Embarrassment burnt like acid in his stomach. Imagine having to explain to a stranger that you had no idea that anything was even wrong with your daughter. He could hear the judgment in the Lieutenant's voice as he asked dozens of questions instead of being able to offer any semblance of assistance to the people that were trying to locate his youngest daughter. Never had he realized how fractured his family was until that moment.

"He called her a day or two ago," Angela replied with a careless shrug and then slammed down the lid to the ice bucket. "Where the hell is the damn ice? Libby!"

"You fired Libby."

"I did?" Her unfocused eyes met his. "When did you get here?"

Either he was going to strangle her or walk out of the room, the house, get as far away from everything that was wrong with his life as he could. After taking a deep breath and counting to ten, he did neither.

"Our daughter is missing."

She poured a generous amount of vodka into a glass, spilling even more as her hand was shaking so badly. "I heard."

"And?" Jeff asked, exasperated that he was the only one that seemed to care.

"And what? Elizabeth probably took off in some snit. She'll show up in a couple of days like nothing happened." Angela took a slug of her drink. "She always was an ungrateful brat."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Elizabeth paused, one hand holding a tress of hair and the other a pair of scissors she'd found in the kitchen. "Cutting my hair."

"Why?" Jason asked, looking at her like she'd grown another head.

"So no one will recognize me."

"Put those down," he said, coming into the bathroom and taking them away when she didn't listen.

"Hey!" It was her hair; she could do whatever she wanted to with it. If she wanted to shave it all off she could. She'd already had one man telling her how to do everything including how to wear her hair, and she did not need another one.

Jason held the shears over his head when she tried to grab them. She further embarrassed herself by jumping up and down several times to reach them, but he was too tall. To add insult to injury, he was laughing at her.

Not out loud but on the inside. She could tell by the way the corners of his mouth quirked up and his eyes sparkled. The jerk.

Her lower lip jutted out in a pout as she crossed her arms and glared at him. There was nothing funny about it. Changing your hair was a big deal to any woman. It was not something to be taken lightly and he was standing there laughing at her.

"You done?" he asked and then tucked the scissors into his back pocket when he was satisfied that she wasn't going to make another attempt – but she was darn tempted.

"It's your face that makes you recognizable. You could cut it all off and dye it purple and someone you knew would identify you as soon as they saw your face."

Shoulders slumping because she saw the wisdom in what he was saying, Elizabeth said, "Great, now I need plastic surgery."

"That's not-"

"Not a bad idea." Turning to the mirror, she said, "Do you think they could fix my chin? I always hated the clef in my chin."

Jason appeared behind her in the glass and he studied her face while she stared at him. She bet he never agonized over his looks a day in his life. His face was perfect.

Laying his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around, trapping her against the sink. The funny thing was she didn't feel trapped at all, mainly because he was mesmerizing her with those eerie crystalline eyes of his. Up close like that they were really, really blue.

"Your face is perfect the way it is."

Cheeks pinking from the compliment, Elizabeth ducked her head. "But my chin –"

He cupped it and made her look at him before tapping the shallow clef with his thumb. "I like your chin."

Lips parting in surprise, she started to say something but words failed her, and her mouth went dry as dust. Unconsciously she started to take a step back, abruptly uncomfortably aware of how close they were, forgetting that there was no where to go and causing him to drop his hand. She watched warily as he shoved both hands into his pockets and gave her an apologetic half smile.

As he backed out of the room he asked, "You know how to use a gun?"

Eyeing him owlishly, thrown by the sudden change in conversation as well as what had just transpired, she couldn't do anything but shake her head.

"Do you want to learn?"

"I …. Y-yes."

"Good," Jason said with a nod. "Get your coat."

* * *

Sonny had just put on his coat when his secretary poked her head in. "Excuse me, Mr. Corinthos, but the police are here and insist on speaking with you."

"Send them in," he said and then with a sigh, took his coat off and hung it back up. "And Sam, call my lawyer."

"Yes, sir," she said and then let them in.

"Corinthos," Taggert said with a nod.

"Lieutenant," he bit off in return and then looked at the other cop, presumably Taggert's partner, who he hadn't seen before.

"This is Detective Rodriguez."

"Have a seat," Sonny said after sizing up the new guy and dismissing him as just another idiot destined to become another pain in his ass.

"We're here about the disappearance of Elizabeth Lansing," Taggert said as he pulled a small notebook out of his coat pocket and retrieved a pen from his shirt pocket.

"I heard about that," Sonny said, sitting behind his desk. "I saw on the news that she killed herself."

"We never found a body."

"It's a damn shame, but I don't know what I can do to help you."

"You knew her," Taggert pointed out. "Do you have any idea why she might take her own life?"

Sonny shrugged. "We serve on the board of a couple of charities together, but I wouldn't say we were anything more than casual acquaintances. I doubt that she would confide in me."

"Would you say that she had any enemies?"

"Elizabeth?" Sonny said on a laugh. "She's not the type of woman that has enemies."

"Yeah, but you know women," Taggert said. "Someone wears the same dress as them to a function, has a nicer house or car, a richer husband and they get jealous."

"I've never heard anyone say a word against her."

Taggert nodded and wrote something down. Sonny twiddled his thumbs and waited for him to get bored and leave. So far he hadn't had to lie and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn't think she was dead. The whole suicide angle didn't jive with what he knew about her, but he also didn't know what had happened to her. And while he hoped she was okay, he wanted to stay out of it from there on out.

He'd done all he could for her. She was someone else's problem now.

Taggert slapped his notebook shut and put it and the pen away as he stood. "Thanks for your time. We appreciate it."

"Sure," Sonny said and got to his feet as well. "I hope you find her."

"We do too," Taggert said and followed his silent partner out of the room.

Sonny was just about to breathe easy when Taggert caught the door just before it closed and pushed it open.

"Did you hear Lorenzo Alcazar was back in town?"

"No, I hadn't," Sonny said with a shrug. "I don't really know him."

"No?" Taggert asked, eyebrows shooting up. "I thought I'd heard somewhere that you were friends. Huh, guess I was wrong."

"Guess so."

"Take it easy," Taggert said as he let the door swing shut and Sonny collapsed into his desk chair.

"Son of a fucking bitch," he said, reaching for the phone.

* * *

"That was pointless," Cruz said as they left Corinthos' warehouse.

"Actually, I got several things from our chat," Taggert said. "For instance, Corinthos failed to mention that he met Mrs. Lansing for coffee just three days before her disappearance – and it wasn't the first time."

"Sounds like they were more than just passing acquaintances to me," Cruz replied.

"And when I asked him about Alcazar he played like he barely knew they guy when we know for a fact that Alcazar has leased a pier from him on more than one occasion. And we have photographs of Corinthos vacationing at one of Alcazar's villas in South America."

"Could just be a business relationship. I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine," Cruz offered, knowing that the connection between the two had long been a point of interest for them and the FBI, where the pictures originated from.

Taggert sneered. "Could be, but I don't think so."

"Lieutenant," Ric said, striding up to them dressed as if he had just come from court and looking remarkably well rested for a man claiming to be overwrought with worry. "Did you just come from Corinthos' warehouse? Did he know anything about Elizabeth?"

"Nothing worth passing on," Taggert said cautiously. "Why, do you think he knows something?"

"What? I …. No! Elizabeth barely knew the man. I just thought with his reputation that he might know something."

"Mr. Lansing," Cruz said, "did your wife seem, well, excuse my indelicacy, unstable in the time leading up to her disappearance?"

"No, no." Ric shook his head emphatically and then went stalk still as if rethinking that assessment. "Actually, she was rather distraught, had been for a long time. You see we had been trying to have a baby for some time and she just couldn't seem to conceive. It was hard on both of us because we wanted a child so badly, but much more so on Elizabeth. I'm afraid that she blamed herself."

"I'm sorry," Cruz said feebly and fell silent once more.

"In your wife's medical files it said that she spent a few weeks in a rehab in Arizona several months back, do you mind telling us what for?" Taggert asked, readily taking advantage of Lansing's sudden willingness to talk.

Ric blanched and covered his mouth with his hand as if overcome with emotion. It took him several minutes to compose himself. "Elizabeth … she started drinking a lot after a miscarriage. Self-medicating, I suppose. We were both so devastated by the loss that I didn't notice at first, but then she had that car accident. We checked her into rehab right away."

"I see."

"If you could keep this private, we would appreciate it. Elizabeth was so embarrassed by the whole thing and I – I don't want people to speak ill of her now that … she's gone."

"Of course," Taggert agreed. "There is no reason for us to release any of what you've just told us to the press. However, it does shed some light on her state of mind."

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"There is very little reason for us to think that your wife did not drown, Mr. Lansing," Cruz said, stepping up once more in an effort to get him to drop the investigation. Taggert was like a dog with a bone, but with enough pressure from the right corner, they would have no choice but to close the case.

"I-I know," Ric said, hanging his head. "I just need to know why. Why would she do this?"

"We may never know," Cruz replied with a somber frown.

"But we're going to do our best to find out," Taggert interjected.

Ric's head shoot up. "You are?"

"Yes, we are." He patted the other man on the arm reassuringly. "No body has been recovered, and you _are_ one of us, part of the family. We won't give up until we know something about what happened to your wife."

"T-that's wonderful," Ric sputtered.

"It might help if we could get another look around your house though," Taggert said and Cruz stared at him in puzzlement. "Maybe find something we missed before."

"Sure, that would be fine. When would you like to … look around?"

Taggert took a look at his watch and saw that it was after five o'clock. He'd have to call in a couple favors but he had a friend down in forensics that owed him a favor and wouldn't mind the overtime. "How about right now?"


	7. Chapter 7

The first time they'd left the house since their arrival and he took her to a shooting range. Not exactly her idea of good time, but judging by the way the man at the front counter had greeted Jason, it was for him. It shouldn't have surprised her and his being proficient with the tools of his trade only benefited her, but she just so happened to be slightly afraid of those tools.

Her hand shook as she took the weapon he had selected from his personal arsenal before they had left the house. The gun was cold and surprisingly light considering the amount of damage she knew it could inflict.

"That is a SIG Sauer P226, 9mm," Jason informed her. "It's light enough for you to carry in your purse if you wanted."

She wanted to ask him if he knew from experience but bit her tongue. It didn't seem smart to sass the man teaching her how to use a gun.

Following his lead she put on a headset and protective eyewear and then watched as he called up the first man-shaped target about ten feet away from where she stood.

"I just want you to get used to firing. Don't worry about hitting anything."

Elizabeth let him get her into position; feet braced about a shoulders width apart and summoning all her courage, raised the pistol. Never in her life had she thought that it would come to this. She had no interest in guns – or at least she hadn't until now. If it meant her survival she would forget her fear, learn all she could and be thankful for it. For now Jason was willing to stand between her and the rest of the world, but there would come a time, most likely very soon, that he wouldn't be around. She had to learn to protect herself.

Jason's arms came around her from behind, his hands closing over hers to adjust her grip. She shrank at the feel of him pressed warmly against her back but forced herself to concentrate on what he was doing. He wasn't going to hurt her. She had to get used to being touched. Not everyone wanted something from her. Not all of them would want to hurt her. She'd known good men before and she would again – just as soon as she put Ric and her marriage behind her.

"Relax," he said, his voice coming through the headset. "Take a deep breath and slowly let it out as you squeeze the trigger."

Trembling, she did as he advised. The gun jerked in her hands, the barrel recoiling towards the ceiling from the released energy and her inexperience. With the headset protecting her ears, the shot was a dull crack but it still made her jump.

"Good," Jason said at her ear, his hands on her hips to help her regain her balance and she was grateful for the support. "Keep going."

Smoke burnt her nose and her knees felt like jelly but she steadied the weapon, and with a deep breath, shot again and again, picturing Ric's face on the target.

* * *

"Your incompetence has put us all at risk," Trevor said as he paced the room, practically vibrating with rage after learning that the police were searching Ric's home at that very moment. "Our clients think we are playing them against each other to start a bidding war. They don't like it. They are getting impatient … as am I."

"It's not my fault," Rim simpered. "That bitch took it."

"You let her take it," Trevor yelled, baring his teeth as he snarled at his son. "Your stupidity made it possible for her to get her hands on it."

"Y-you are the one that put a hit out on her," Ric stammered in a rather pathetic attempt to assert himself. "She found out and took off."

"How would she find out, Richard? Is she psychic now?"

Lorenzo lounged in a leather club chair, enjoying a rather good glass of scotch along with the show. His role in the deal was minimal at best. He didn't care if Ric's little wife had taken off with the flash drive before she supposedly took a header off the pier. Not that he was ready to believe that she had committed suicide. It was too convenient. If anyone had bothered to ask him, he would have to say that Ms. Lansing had had some help in disappearing.

Trevor didn't believe it either, but he was too busy freaking out to bother with something as inconsequential as taking a moment to think logically about the situation. He would rather yell at everyone and make idle threats. Neither father nor son was ready to take responsibility for the missing information. Imagine leaving something as valuable as that flash drive lying around where anyone could have picked it up – don't even get him started on putting it on something as untrustworthy as a that tiny piece of technology without bothering to save a hard copy in the first place. Ric always had been an idiot.

It hardly mattered now. The flash drive was gone and so was Elizabeth, and whether she was alive or dead wasn't an issue for him. Either way she'd done him a favor. The Lansings would take all the heat when they failed to produce the information they'd promised to three very dangerous terrorist cells. When both Trevor and his idiot son were gone he would be free.

When Ric turned to him, his face pale and eyes wild, Lorenzo knew he would have to take him out before long. He was cracking under the pressure.

"If you'd done your job," Ric said, pointing an accusing finger.

"Be glad the hit did not go down," Lorenzo said with a smirk. "Your precious flash drive would be gone forever."

Ric's face turned a sickly shade of green and turned to his father, stuttering and stammering in such a way that not a single word was intelligible. Trevor raked a hand through his hair and snapped at his son to shut up.

"Go see Corinthos," he told Lorenzo, "see what he knows about my daughter-in-law's disappearance."

* * *

"You did a good job today," he said as they drove home, the smell of the burgers and fries they'd stopped for filling the truck cab.

"My arms hurt," Elizabeth replied around the straw to her chocolate shake.

"That'll lessen with practice. If you feel up to it tomorrow we'll set up some cans in the backyard for you."

"Is that safe?"

"Nothing to hit but a bunch of trees," he answered, turning onto the unmarked road that led to his house. "I won't let you shot anyone, including either of us."

"Does it matter that people saw us together?" she asked, apparently satisfied with his assurances of safety.

"People around here mind their own business for the most part and we didn't do anything to attract any undue attention." He understood her concerns, he had them too, but the range was two towns over and they knew him there. No one would say anything. She'd needed to get out of the house a little anyhow. It wasn't good for her to be cooped up so much and he didn't want her to feel like he was holding her captive there.

"No one is looking for you here, Elizabeth."

"Maybe not, but unless you frequently take women to a gun range, people could get curious."

Gossip would have to travel a long way to Port Charles for anyone to care what he was doing or who he was with. He didn't discount the possibility though. "I doubt anyone is interested in what I do."

"What _do_ people think you do for a living anyhow?"

He was beginning to think he liked it better when she didn't talk. She was still riding high on adrenaline from shooting a gun for the first time. For someone that was jaded by the whole experience it was easy to forget that it was exciting at first. It made you feel powerful, like no one could ever hurt you because you were the one holding the gun.

"They think I'm retired from the service and make furniture, which I do."

"So you sell what you make?"

"Yes." Curling his fingers tightly around the wheel, he tried not to snap at her questions. "At a store in Bar Harbor."

She slurped her shake in response and he breathed a sigh of relief that another question hadn't immediately followed. It was only natural that she was curious about him considering she was living him, had put her life in his hands, but he wasn't used to talking about himself. He just had to adjust to being around someone and all that went with it. As company went she wasn't so bad, he admitted.

"Are you from here?" she asked and put her empty cup in the fast food bags with the rest of the trash from their meal.

"No."

"It's so pretty here, even with the rain. I like the rain. It washes everything clean."

Glancing at her from the corner of his eyes he continued to listen to the running commentary on the weather. Apparently quiet time was over.

"Was that a snowflake?" she asked, leaning forward to inspect the windshield. "Maybe it will snow."

He'd been keeping a close eye on the weather reports and so far they weren't calling for anything but rain, but he wouldn't complain about a good, heavy snow. Enough and there would be no way in or out of his corner of the world. Not without a snow mobile and he would hear one of them coming, but where there was a will there was a way.

"Oh, there's another one," she exclaimed and smiled in his direction. "I love snow. It reminds me of home."

He pulled up in front of the house so they wouldn't have to worry about getting soaked walking back from the garage, turned off the engine and turned to her. What could it hurt to tell her something about who he was or where he came from? It would hurt and certainly wouldn't cost him anything. "Port Charles. I'm from Port Charles."

Surprise lit her face. "Really? Do you still have family there?"

The wall that he'd carefully constructed went up at the mention of the people that had given him life and consequently made that life miserable. "I don't have any family."

"I-I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to pry."

Immediately feeling guilty for snapping, he said, "I couldn't be what they wanted so I left. I guess you could say we disowned each other."

"I wish I could have done that," she said thoughtfully. "Just cut them all out of my life. Forget that they even exist. That they matter." She sighed. "But what they say is true; there really is a thin line between love and hate. I feel both for them."

As he knew pretty much all there was to know about her, he was aware that her relationship with her parents was so strained it was nonexistent. They weren't so different there, but it sounded as if she regretted it and wished things could be different, while he did not.

"You know you'll never be able to see them again," he said.

Elizabeth threw open her door and hopped down out of the truck, turning around to shut the door and said, "I won't miss them."

* * *

A missing person that wasn't missed at all, Cruz thought as he looked around the Lansing's living room. It was just sad. Where was this woman's family, her friends? Didn't anyone care about her?

"Let me ask you a question," Taggert said. "What kind of guy goes to work the morning after his wife vanishes into thin air and doesn't say a word to any of his co-workers or take a walk down the hall to ask the police commissioner for help?"

The kind of guy that's glad his wife is gone," Cruz answered with a shake of his head.

"My thinking exactly," Taggert said as he looked under the couch. "I'm also curious why Lansing hasn't asked his daddy the Senator to call in the FBI."

Cruz stared up at the portrait of Trevor Lansing hanging in the place of honor over the mantle and decided that Ric had some serious daddy issues. "My guess is he doesn't really want his wife found."

"Lieutenant," Stan Johnson called from upstairs, "you need to come see this."

"Probably really does have a skeleton hanging in his closet," Taggert muttered as they climbed the stairs. "Creepy bastard."

Stan was waiting for them in the master bedroom, just outside the walk-in closet, all the gadgets that the crime scene boys used packed up at his feet. "None of the women's clothes have been worn."

"You sure?" Taggert asked with a perplexed frown.

"Some of them still have the tags on," Stan said. "But I'd say that they are all brand new. And I don't care how good your dry cleaner is, there is always some sort of evidence. Perspiration soaked into the material, a stain that won't come out, something."

"Is anything missing?" Taggert asked.

Cruz hung back, observing and mentally filing everything away. He felt guilty about what he was doing, but he and Jason went way back. The number of times Jason saved his ass alone was part of the reason he'd agreed to play along. That he was putting his career on the line was difficult to face, but he couldn't turn his back on his friend.

Taggert wasn't a fool, he'd catch on eventually. At the rate he was going and his natural distrust of anything having to do with Lansing, it was going to be sooner rather than later. He hoped Jason had taken the mysterious Mrs. Lansing and gone to ground.

"According to the husband," Stan said, checking his notes, "the only thing missing is a navy blue suit and matching heels that we assume she was wearing. But that just makes this seem even weirder. Unless she only wore things once and tossed them, there is no plausible explanation."

"I can think of one," Taggert replied, "and it reeks of a cover up."

* * *

Jason stood in the kitchen staring out the window over the sink and watching as the trees and ground were slowly being covered by the snow that had begun to steadily fall after they'd gotten home. Elizabeth was right, it was nice, but he wasn't about to tell her that. She would probably have him out there making a snowman or something.

He would do it too, if it made her smile.

Shaking his head, annoyed with himself because he knew he was quickly entering dangerous territory where she was concerned. His career as he knew it was over. The reputation he'd built as an efficient and reliable assassin was in ruins. All because he'd made the decision to save a woman he didn't even know. The strange thing was he didn't regret it … much.

He supposed he would miss the danger, the adrenaline rush, but it wasn't as if it had been his lifelong dream. It was just something he happened to be good at and his years of military training made him a hot commodity. His desire to put as much distance between him and the man he was supposed to be played a large part in it, although he was loath to admit it. He'd wanted to kill the last vestiges of the kid that had walked out of his parent's house with nothing but the consuming need to escape.

A lousy excuse for what he had become, but it was all he had. Not that he'd ever had to explain himself or his choices to anyone. However, the whole situation with Elizabeth had left him at a crossroads and had him thinking about his life in a way that he hadn't in a long time.

He could hang up his gun for good and make furniture fulltime. Other things had kept him from filling orders and they'd piled up in such a way that he'd have enough work for a year or more. Money wasn't a problem either way. Boredom was an issue, but he wasn't getting any younger. Perhaps the opportunity to change had come at the right time.

All he had to do was keep them both alive long enough to finish the job and get Elizabeth settled someplace safe to start a new life, and then maybe he'd look into a fresh start of his own.

That Trevor was so high profile prevented him for just wasting him and his sorry excuse for son and being done with it. But that was okay, he liked a challenge. He would figure it out.

Since Elizabeth hindered his movements he would have to stash her somewhere secure so he could go back to Port Charles and see if he couldn't determine what was going on. According to Cruz no one was buying the suicide and the detective assigned to the case had a serious hate on for Ric, so he wasn't going to let it go until he learned the truth or Elizabeth's body washed up. Jason wasn't sure if that was a problem yet or not.

Cruz wasn't too happy about helping him deceive the police, but they were tighter than family. Facing combat together forged strong bonds and Jason knew that he could call any of the guys he had served with and they would help, no questions asked, and he would do it for them, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Restless, he began to pace the room, stopped at the fridge for a beer he really didn't want, and did his best to stay the hell away from Elizabeth. It was harder than he originally thought.

He'd been attracted to her right from the start, but she was a client and therefore off limits. It hadn't been a big deal then, he was used to denying himself things that could burn him, but now, when she was constantly around, it was becoming a big problem.

He was still kicking himself over that thing in the bathroom earlier. Why he made such a fuss about her cutting her hair was beyond him. It was just hair, it would grow back. What was it to him? Except he liked the way it curled around her face and down her back, tempting him to run his hands through it, grab a handful and pull her close so he could ….

Groaning, he pushed that image right out of his head. There was no way he was crossing that line. She was a danger all her own. One he could not afford.

For one thing, she didn't see him like that and even if there was a chance in hell that she did, he would never take advantage of their current situation. He wouldn't abuse the tentative trust she had given him; it was far too valuable and she was as fragile as finely spun glass. Still hurting from everything that bastard had done to her.

It would probably take years for her to see a man as anything other than a threat. The way she'd backed away from him in the bathroom had proven that well enough.

She'd just looked so sad and lost, and he was enough of an idiot that he wanted to make her feel better. There wasn't a damn thing wrong with the way she looked. Whoever convinced her that there was anything wrong with her or her chin should be shot.

Tipping back the bottle, he drank down half the beer in an effort to cool off. He was getting worked up and that wasn't good. He needed to keep his focus.

The cell phone in his pocket vibrated and he pulled it out hoping that it was Cruz to tell him there'd been a break in the case, but the number was blocked. He could've ignored it, thought about it, but few people had his number and as he had his back to the wall, he couldn't afford to miss anything.

"What?" he barked into the phone, not wanting to identify himself to someone he didn't know.

"_Jason. What the hell is going on?" Sonny shouted. "What happened to Elizabeth?" _

"The job went bad." He didn't answer to anyone and frankly, he didn't like the idea of Sonny anywhere near Elizabeth.

"_No kidding! I've had the cops here asking all sorts of questions about her. They're saying she killed herself." _

Jason sighed. "She didn't kill herself. Trevor put a hit out on her."

He didn't like telling Sonny even that much, but he didn't want the guilt of knowing his friend was grieving over someone still alive and reasonably well.

"_Is that why Alcazar has been hanging around?" Sonny asked. _

"Hanging around where?" Jason returned suspiciously. Sonny sounded off, like he was frantic with worry and it was his neck on the line.

"_He stopped by after the cops left and asked about my friendship with Elizabeth. I told him I didn't know anything … because I don't." _

And it was going to stay that way Jason decided.

"_B-but she's alive?" Sonny asked. "You're sure?" _

"I'm sure."

"_Good. That's good. Do you know where she's at? Are you together? Maybe you should bring her here. I can hide her out at a safehouse. She knows me and would probably be more comfortable with someone she's familiar with rather than a stranger." _

"It's not safe for her in Port Charles."

Now Jason knew there was something up. Sonny didn't like to get his hands dirty unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it. Either someone was putting pressure on him to find Elizabeth or he wanted his girlfriend back. Jason couldn't discount either possibility.

"_Jason? You still there?" _

"Yes."

"_I'm just so worried about her. You can't imagine how it affected me when they said she was probably dead. Elizabeth is such a special person and she's been hurt so much already. I feel responsible for her and everything that's happening. Let me help you both." _

"It's probably best if you keep your distance. You don't want to bring the Feds down on you."

"_I don't care about any of that. Just tell me where she is so I can sleep at night. I'll feel better if I know that much. Where is she, Jason? Where's Elizabeth_?"

Jason peered around the corner into the living room, saw her curled up in his favorite chair reading a book. He must have made some sort of noise because she looked up, met his eyes and smiled shyly.

"Safe," he said into the phone, turning away from the entirely too appealing picture she made. "She's safe."

* * *

Sonny sat in his darkened living room with only the light from the flickering fire for company, that and the glass of bourbon he held as he considered the position he'd been put in. On one hand was his loyalty to his two friends, but on the other there was his invaluable partnership with Lorenzo Alcazar.

His world was a volatile one; he could lose everything in the snap of a finger. It wasn't just about the money, or the power, or material possessions, although, he enjoyed them all immensely. He had children to think about. Lorenzo was not an enemy he cared to have.

Decision made, he reached for the phone and made the call. They were expecting to hear from him so they answered on the first ring. Sonny didn't bother to identify himself, he didn't have to.

"Jason Morgan," he said and then gulped down the rest of his drink. "Find him and you'll find the girl."


	8. Chapter 8

"Our boy Lansing _does _have a skeleton in his closet," Cruz said, tossing a file on Taggert's cluttered desk.

Mouth curving into a vindicated smile, Taggert leaned back in his chair and said, "Tell me."

"According to the Cambridge P.D., a girl he was dating his junior year at Harvard filed assault charges after he knocked her around. The details are in there," Cruz said pointing to the file, "but, and this is a big but, she dropped the charges out of the blue two days later. Claimed it was all a misunderstanding, but then things get really interesting. The next day she drops out of school and leaves town. The next semester she turns up at Berkley with a whole lotta cash to throw around."

Taggert scowled. "A pay off," he said, rolling a pencil between his hands.

"That was my thought," Cruz agreed as he sat at his desk. "Dear old dad made the whole thing disappear."

Just like his daughter-in-law Taggert wondered, but kept to himself. "Something like that could have hurt the Senator's reputation – dented it a little for a while – but it would have ruined Ric's future."

"Certainly make it difficult for him to be elected District Attorney or to any office for that matter," Cruz said thoughtfully. "Rumor has it Ric is looking to move to the governor's mansion."

"I've heard that," Taggert said with a sneer. The last thing any one needed was Lansing instated to a higher office. It was bad enough that they had to deal with him in Port Charles, what would he do if he held power over the whole state? He didn't want to think about it.

"If anything this gives us a reason to keep looking at Lansing," Taggert said and then pulled out a sheaf of papers he'd been going over. "I've been digging into Elizabeth's past. There's more to her than meets the eye."

Cruz looked up. "Anything noteworthy?"

"She's got a juvenile record, typical teenage shit; truancy, shoplifting, minor in possession."

"Lends to the idea Ric was trying to sell the other night about her having a drinking problem," Cruz said. "But according to everyone we talked to she doesn't drink. Not one drop. Although, she could be hiding it … or Lansing could be full of shit."

"Guess which one I vote for," Taggert said with a grin. "I looked into Elizabeth's finances before they got married; she's got a trust fund."

Cruz sat up a little straighter in his chair. "There wasn't anything about a trust fund in the Lansing's records."

"There wouldn't be. The account is in her name only."

"How much?"

"I'm still waiting on the bank in Colorado to fax over the current balance and transaction records," Taggert said consulting his notes, "but they estimated it to be over a hundred grand."

Cruz let out a low whistle. "You think she ran?"

Taggert passed the papers aside and ran his hands over his face. There were so many unanswered questions about the case. Half the pieces didn't fit and a large part of him wondered if he was just too biased to see the truth. He hated Lansing, but he didn't have to like the people involved to do his job. The case was about Elizabeth. It was her face that kept him up at night, asking himself if she could have killed herself, and if she had, what the motivations was, or if she'd just taken off.

"If she did she had help."

* * *

Elizabeth could tell by the look on his face that it was bad news. News he didn't want to tell her, but had to because he'd promised to be straight with her.

She snapped the book she'd been reading closed and laid it on a side table. Watching him expectantly with hands clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling, she waited for the house of cards her life had become to collapse around her.

When Jason sat down on the couch and stared at her while she fidgeted under the intensity. It was as if he could tell how scared she really was and knew that it wouldn't take much to send her over the edge. Although she tried very hard to act like she was unaffected by everything she'd been through and would still have to confront, he never called her on the obvious lie or acted as if he believed otherwise.

She was deluding herself. She would never be truly free of Ric. Even dead he would have a hold on her … unless she learned to fight back. Putting a hit on him wasn't an easy decision, but could only ever give her half of what she wanted. If she wanted to be free, really free, the horrors of her past would have to be dredged up, examined and dealt with once and for all. That was the only way she'd be able to move on.

Whether she was strong enough to do that remained to be seen, but she hoped that when the time came she would discover that Ric and her parents were wrong about her. She would be good enough, smart enough, and strong enough.

Meeting Jason's steady gaze, Elizabeth said, "Just tell me. I can handle it."

"Where did the money come from that you used to pay me?"

The question threw her. She couldn't see why it could possibly matter but she knew it had to mean something if Jason bothered to ask. She shrugged. "My trust fund."

"Did Ric know about it?"

"No, no one did. My grandparents set it up so I got it when I graduated from high school to help pay for college, but I got a scholarship. My family thought I blew it all just like my sister Sarah did with hers."

Her sister had used her money on a car she'd crashed a few months later and new breasts, which she used to catch her husband, a guy twenty years her senior who liked nothing more than to show off his trophy wife and buy her anything that made her happy. Little did he know that nothing ever made Sarah happy for very long. She was a lot like their mother that way.

"Ric knows about it now," Jason said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Swallowing thickly because she knew how angry he would be to learn she'd kept it from him. He handled all their finances. If she needed money she had to ask him for it, and if he didn't think her reasons were good enough, he didn't give it to her. It had been degrading, but knowing that she had an account all her own, a secret little rebellion, helped keep her sane.

"He can't touch it. My name is the only one on the papers." She'd made sure of that. In the event of her death whatever money was left would be donated to a local woman's shelter.

When she explained that to Jason he smiled slightly as if impressed. Or maybe she only imagined it because she wanted him to think her clever enough to pull something like that off. "Does it matter that he knows?"

"The police know that you withdrew a large sum of money right before you disappeared. They'll want to know why."

"I'm sorry." She should have found a way to withdraw a little at a time instead of so much all at once. Too late now, she thought with a frown. Maybe she wasn't as smart as she'd thought.

Jason shrugged as if unconcerned, but it bothered her. She'd made a careless mistake and ruined everything. It was a wonder he hadn't washed his hands of her a long time ago, a waste of time and effort.

"Elizabeth," Jason said, drawing her attention back to him. "Do you know Lorenzo Alcazar?"

She started to say no, but got a vague mental picture of a tall man with dark hair and a deceptively charming smile, for underneath she'd felt the ice, the threat of violence just below the surface.

"I met him once at a party. I forget whose it was or what it was for."

"Did Ric introduce you to him?"

"Yes, but I don't think he particularly wanted to. It was like Lorenzo didn't give him a choice. I remember thinking it was odd at the time because Ric was always introducing me to people."

They were the perfect couple, everyone said so. Ric told her that was all she was good for, making him look good and she wasn't very good at that most of the time. She was nothing by herself. None of those people cared about her. He was the important one, the one they wanted to get close to. He loved it when people fawned all over him. And when they didn't, it was because of her. She'd done something to embarrass him. They could all see what a stupid, useless whore she was.

"Did Trevor know Alcazar? Did you ever see them together?"

Shaking her head to dislodge the memories, Elizabeth tried to focus on telling Jason what he wanted to know. "I-I don't know. I think Trevor was at that same party, but I don't remember. Why? What does Lorenzo have to do with any of this?"

"Trevor hired him to arrange the hit on you and now he's asking questions."

Shaking her head because she didn't understand, Elizabeth said, "But I thought they all believed I was dead."

"They probably did at first, but that was only ever to buy us some time."

"Oh," she said, disappointed. It had been somewhat of a comfort to think that they believed she was dead. Hoped it meant they'd leave her alone.

Then it dawned on her what that meant and what Jason was so reluctant to tell her. Pulling her knees up to her chest, looping her arms around them, she tried to make herself as small as possible.

"Ric's looking for me," she said, her voice no more than a hushed whisper full of fear as well as knowledge. "He'll find me. He always finds me."

"He won't touch you ever again," Jason told her, his voice gruff.

Tears burnt her throat and stung her eyes. She wanted so badly to trust that, he Jason didn't know Ric. She knew as surely as she knew that the sun would rise in the east that Ric would find her. He wouldn't give up, would do whatever it took, and when he found her, he would make her pay.

Except this time she wasn't alone. Jason had helped her and he would have to pay for that too, Ric would see to it.

Devastated that she'd done this to someone who'd done nothing but help her for no reason that she could discern, Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach. Ric would kill him. If he even thought that she had feelings of any sort for Jason, he would make her watch while he killed him. He would do it just to hurt her, to make her suffer. And it would, she knew because she felt closer to Jason than she had anyone else in a very long time. She would try to save him. She would get on her knees and beg for him to spare Jason's life even though she knew it wouldn't do any good.

Uncurling, she jumped to her feet. The move must have startled Jason because he stood as well, a frown furrowing his brow, marring his near perfect face.

"I have to go," She said and started for the door.

When Jason grabbed her by the arms she fought the hold, desperate to flee.

"I can't stay here," she cried, trying to pry his fingers loose. "Let me go. Let me go, Jason. I can't – I have to –"

She couldn't breathe. The words stuck in her throat, choking her and the tears began to flow freely. Her whole body shook with sobs rent from the depths of her despair.

"P-please let me go," she pleaded pitifully, falling to her knees, broken. "Please."

"Damn it," Jason ground out between clenched teeth as he reached for her and hauled her up to her feet.

It was exactly why he didn't want to press her too hard for answers or tell her what he had learned from Sonny and Cruz. He knew she was about to break. It had been building for days. The more she acted like she was okay the more he saw her unraveling right before his eyes.

When she collapsed against him, fisting her hands in his shirt as if she alternately wanted to cling for dear life and push him away, the only thing he could do was hold her. As he found when he'd helped her at the gun range, they fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. It was disturbing and not at all appropriate for him to be thinking about.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, running a hand over her hair. "You aren't going anywhere."

She shook her head and hiccupped, trying to catch her breath.

"You're going to make yourself sick."

She hunched her shoulders like she was trying to close into herself. He understood the desire to make yourself invisible, to disappear, all in an attempt to protect yourself, but he wouldn't let her. Her tears broke his heart and awakened all his protective urges. He would die before he let any harm come to her.

"No one will hurt you," he said softly, his cheek resting against her temple.

He'd never known the kind of fear he'd seen in her eyes, wild and all-consuming, but he did know what it was to feel powerless to another's will, been witness to terrors that rivaled what she had experienced firsthand, taken lives for no other reason than he could. Casting his eyes toward the ceiling he asked for guidance, for the ability to give her what she needed when he believed that there was nothing left for him to offer.

Gently Jason set her away from him so that he could see her face. She sniffled and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt but she was pulling herself back together.

"I need you to trust me," he said solemnly. "We're in this together, but in order for it to work we have to trust each other. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Elizabeth peered at him with swollen red eyes as if trying to read his every expression and determine whether she should trust him. Finally she nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't done all this to have her run off and get herself killed.

She was wary and he didn't blame her. In her shoes he would be cautious too. But he thought he had a way to make it easier on her, to show that he had put his trust in her.

He pulled a thick yellow envelope from his back pocket along with her new driver's license. If she decided to run, and he hoped she wouldn't, she would be better prepared this way. He didn't have to make the gesture and she would know it, but that was the idea.

Jason took her arm and placed the envelope with the ID on top in her hand and then used his free hand to curl her fingers around the bundle. Perhaps he lingered a little longer than necessary because when she lifted her head her eyes were filled with distrustful uncertainty.

"This is the money I paid you to kill Ric," she said in recognition. "Did you change your mind?"

"No," he answered; sure that he was doing the right thing. "I'm doing this one for free."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why would you –"

"Because of the look he put in your eyes."

* * *

Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling awful for what she was about to do, but the decision had already been made. She would not let Jason put himself in any more danger because of her. In the end, she imagined, he would understand, even be grateful. He would get his life back. After a few days he would probably forget all about her.

Stuffing what clothes she could into the aged black backpack she'd found in the armoire and worked at convincing herself that it was the right thing to do. Not just for Jason either, but for herself. She could not become dependent on him.

It would be so easy to do. Jason was so competent and sure of himself. If he ever had any doubts he did not let on. They could not be more different on that count. He seemed like he could handle anything and she … the mere mention of Ric had her awash in paralyzing terror.

Ric had controlled her for far too long and she wasn't going to let it continue for one second longer. She would not hide behind Jason, she would run and she would be smart about it this time. She'd leave the country, go to Canada and disappear for real.

Dressed in her warmest clothes; silk long johns under her jeans and thick sweater, two pairs of socks and her sturdy boots, plus her wool pea coat, Elizabeth thought she would be warm enough for the trek to the main road. From there she would have to hitchhike to the nearest bus station. Not the best plan but she wasn't about to steal Jason's truck, not after everything he'd done for her.

She stuffed the majority of the money into the bottom of her pack, but kept a couple hundred out and tucked it in her pocket along with the new driver's license. Patting the bag with a resigned sigh, she knew it was time to go.

Starting to slip the pack on, Elizabeth looked around the room at all the clothes strewn about that she'd never bothered to put away, and laid it back on the bed. She could not repay Jason's hospitality or kindness by leaving him with such a mess. It would be rude and she felt guilty enough as it was.

Hurriedly she picked up the scattered articles of clothing that would not fit in her small bag, folding them as she went, and plied them on the neatly made bed. She'd never unmade it even though she'd claimed to be exhausted and made her escape to wait for Jason to go to bed himself so she could get out without him knowing it. Hopefully.

In the corner she found her navy blue suit wadded up and forgotten. Snatching it up she made to fling it into the fire when something fell out and bounced off the toe of her boot.

Befuddled, she bent to pick it up and discovered that it was a flash drive, but didn't know how it had come to be in her possession. Turning it over and over in her hands, studying it, she remembered.

The lights had gone out right after she'd found it on the floor and had tucked it in her pocket for safekeeping. And then Jason had grabbed her. In all the confusion it had slipped her mind completely.

Was this why Ric was coming after her? She'd picked up his flash drive by mistake and he wanted it back so badly that he was willing to … do what exactly? What could possibly be on it?

All she knew for sure was that it had to be important. Pocketing it and promising herself to find an internet café the first chance she got, she retrieved the backpack. Pausing, listening hard for any noise in the quiet house, she walked over to the window and eased it open. Jason took excellent care of the house so it slid up almost silently. Frigid air blew into the room and stole the breath right out of her lungs.

At least it stopped snowing, she told herself and threw her leg over the sill. Her toes barely scarped the porch but Elizabeth thanked her lucky stars that she was on the first floor and wouldn't have to worry about falling too far. Carefully, but not very gracefully with the pack strapped to her back, she climbed the rest of the way out the window.

Feeling pretty pleased with herself, she smiled and started to close the window. Easy. Just like when she'd sneaked out as a teenager and this time she wouldn't have to worry about sneaking back in.

Still congratulating herself, Elizabeth turned around and felt the blood freeze in her veins. It had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the man sitting just beside the front door seemingly waiting for her.

"Where do you think you're going?"


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: DARPA stands for The Defense Advanced Project Agency.**

Jason escorted an oddly subdued Elizabeth back into the inviting warmth of the house. Releasing his grip on her arm, he pointed towards the living room.

"Go sit down. We need to talk."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut when he glowered at her. With a resigned sigh she went over to flop on the couch and shrugged off his old backpack.

He was tempted to wring her little neck for trying to run, but the larger part of him understood why she did it. She was scared, had tried to fight and failed, running must have seen like her only choice. He might get it and sympathize with her, but he didn't like it.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing – besides trying to get yourself killed?"

Her glare was resentful. He tried not to care. He had a good reason to be pissed.

"I was trying to save your life," she said, rolling her eyes as if it had been obvious.

"You're going to have to explain that one to me because I don't follow."

Elizabeth pulled the rubber band holding her hair up out so that it fell around her shoulders, the scent of apples momentarily distracting him. Shaking his head to clear it, Jason said, "How does you running out on me going to save me life?"

"When Ric finds me –"

"He won't."

"You don't know him," she said, imploring him with her eyes to understand. "And once he does, he will kill you for helping me." She stared down at her hands. "I can't let that happen."

Humbled by her concern, Jason felt his anger dissipate as he sat down beside her on the couch. For once he wasn't afraid to be close to her, wasn't worried about scaring her – she already had enough to be afraid of; he was the least of her problems.

"I'm a hard guy to kill."

Her lips twitched as she glanced over at him. "A plus in your profession I'm sure, but you aren't bulletproof."

"No, I'm not." He had the scars to prove it. In fact there was still a bullet lodged near his spinal cord the doctors were afraid to remove. It was a virtual ticking time bomb. One day it could shift and leave him paralyzed for the rest of his miserable life. Of course there was always hope that he'd get killed on a job before that could ever happen – a silver lining of sorts.

"You've been … great," Elizabeth told him on the verge of tears but valiantly battling them back so she could continue. "You didn't have to do any of it, but you saved me. The only thing I can do to repay you is leave before it's too late."

Jason shook his head. She could just get that idea out of her head because it was not happening. She was going to keep her skinny little ass put if he had to tie her to a chair.

"First of all, I don't do anything I don't want to do," he responded. "Second, you don't owe me anything. I don't want anything from you … except for you to trust me."

"I _do _trust you," she said, grabbing his hand in both of hers. "I-I consider you a friend and friends trust each other, but this isn't about whether I believe in your capabilities. Ric is crazy. He will hurt you."

"Lansing doesn't scare me." Jason turned his hand over to grasp hers. "Neither does his father. What does scare me is you running off in the middle of the night and dying of exposure." He released his hold; afraid he would be overcome with the image of finding her dead in the snow come morning and crush her delicate hand.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he said, "Where in the hell did you think you were going anyhow?"

She fidgeted and did everything in her power to avoid meeting his eyes. She didn't want to tell him, but he knew she would because that was just the sort of woman she was.

"Canada."

Jason nodded. Even when she was being stupid she was being smart. "Leaving the country isn't a bad idea. How were you going to get there?"

Eyeing him sheepishly under lush lashes, she said, "Hitchhike to the nearest bus station."

Collapsing against the back of the couch with a groan, he covered his eyes. Didn't she know how dangerous it was to accept a ride from a stranger? That was how women ended up buried in shallow graves out in the woods. Those mental pictures were going to give him nightmares for awhile.

"I thought about stealing your truck, but decided it was a bad idea."

That surprised a laugh out of him. Uncovering his eyes, he gave her a long look and wondered, not for the first time, who she was and how she'd come to be there, in that situation, and wishing he had known her before. Before she'd been beaten down by life and her headcase husband. She must have been something else because even the brief glimpses he got always threw him for a loop and impossibly managed to suck him in just a little bit more.

"You know how to hotwire a car?"

Blushing scarlet, Elizabeth shrugged and he laughed.

"What were you doing married to a guy like Lansing?"

The color drained from her face and he mentally kicked his own ass. "Sorry."

"No. You have a right to ask and I guess the only thing I can tell you is that he said all the right things, acted like he wanted me, and – and I was an idiot because I fell for it."

"He lied to you. There's no crime in falling in love," he said, clenching his hands into fists, dying for the chance to rip Lansing's head off for what he'd done to her.

"But that's just it," Elizabeth said, "I never loved him – not even then. I lied, too."

* * *

"Lying bitch," Ric said as he took their wedding photograph from his desk and hurled it across the room.

All those years harping at him about needing money for this or that and she'd been sitting on a fortune. How she must have laughed behind his back as he worked like a dog to give her everything she had.

"Ungrateful whore."

When he found her and retrieved the flash drive so he could get his father off his back, he would make her pay for that deception and all the other humiliations she had heaped upon his head. He would make her suffer.

To make it quick would show mercy, and his wife did not deserve his mercy. He would have to punish her first. Maybe lock her up in a dark little room until she begged for even a moment of his company.

He would show her. He would teach her who was boss, where her place was, and then, he thought with a shiver of anticipation, and then he would kill her.

* * *

"You killed her didn't you?"

Taggert stalked around the table, hands on his hips as he glared at the man cowering in his seat. Robert Wells had the sort of round baby face and watery blue eyes that was reminiscent of a painting he'd seen once of cherubs, but old Bob was no angel. He was a thirty-two year old dockworker with a gambling problem, who just so happened to be into a local bookie for over twenty grand.

Bob needed to learn to stay away from the tables because he had a lousy poker face.

"Didn't you," Taggert roared, slamming his hand on the table, making the man jump.

"I didn't anything. I came to you, remember?"

"If you didn't do anything, Bob, why did it take you two days to come forward?" Taggert asked straddling the chair across from his suspect. Mac had given him clearance to bring in their so-called witness for questioning, but the commissioner was getting restless and wanted the case closed. He had to make Bob talk or they might never learn what really happened to Elizabeth Lansing.

Bob wiped his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his shirt; Taggert could smell the fear coming off him. "I – I didn't know who she was until I saw the newspaper."

"And it mattered who she was?" Taggert asked, lip curling in disgust. "She was the D.A.'s wife so you thought you better come forward? If she would've been just some no name housewife you would have what – forgotten what you saw and gone on about your business?"

"No! No, I just meant … I – I don't know –"

"That's right, you don't know. You don't know just how much trouble you're in, Bob."

"I gave you the rings. I told you everything."

"These rings?" Taggert produced the evidence bag and tossed it on the table. "Do you know how much those rings are worth? More than you make in a year. I bet you thought you hit the jackpot when you saw them – what was it – lying on the docks. The woman that wore them wouldn't be needing them anymore, would she? After all, she was dead. She jumped off the docks."

"That's right! She did!" Bob yelled his voice high and shrill.

Taggert shared a look with Cruz who hung back, observing and saying nothing so far, but was an intimidating presence nevertheless.

"Elizabeth Lansing jumped into the harbor," Bob said, mopping his face again. "She just jumped right in and didn't come up again."

"I wish I could believe you," Taggert said, with a sorrowful shake of his head, "but we think you're lying."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"You see, Bob – I can call you Bob right? – we think that you mugged Mrs. Lansing that night on the docks. You saw her walking alone at night, she was just a little bitty woman, no match for a big guy like you, fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, and it was just too tempting. You jumped her, told her to hand over the jewels, but she surprised you, she fought back."

"No! That's not what happened."

"You struggled, you didn't mean to hurt her, but she just wouldn't give those rings up. Maybe she fell, hit her head and knocked herself out, so you pried the rings off her fingers," Taggert continued as if Bob hadn't spoken. "Then you noticed that she wasn't moving. You got scared, checked her pulse and found that she was dead. You couldn't leave her laying out there in the open like that so you rolled her off the docks and into the water. You killed her, Bob. You killed Elizabeth Lansing."

"I would never do that. Never."

"You're going to jail, Bob, for a very long time. The D.A.'s wife," Taggert said with a tsk and a shake of his bald head. "You'll never see the light of day again."

"I helped you," Bob whined. "I gave you the rings. Why would I do that if I killed her? Why?"

"Guilt," Cruz offered with a hard look for the squirming Bob.

"I did not kill her." Bob beat his fist on the table to emphasize each word.

Taggert stood, shaking his head as if feeling sorry for him. "Tell it to the jury."

With that Cruz opened the door to the interrogation room and held it open for Taggert to precede him out of the room.

"Wait! Just wait! I – I'll tell you what you want to know."

Taggert smiled and then turned around to face Bob with a solemn expression on his face. Robert Wells was the picture of a man coming apart at the seams. His face was ashen and his wavy blond hair was plastered to his head with sweat. He seemed to have shrunken in size since entering that room. The prospect of serving real jail time had him ready to spill his guts.

"What do we want to know, Bob?" Taggert asked sounding bored, but his gut was tying itself up in knots of expectation. Was this going to be it, would he finally get the ammunition to nail Lansing to the wall for his wife's disappearance?

"Some guy paid me to give you the jewelry and say that I saw a woman matching her description take a dive off the docks," Bob said, his words coming out in a rush. "She's – that Elizabeth Lansing – she's still alive."

* * *

She was still alive, Elizabeth thought with some disbelief as she gazed blindly out the windows in Jason's loft office. She never thought she would make it an hour much less almost a full week after leaving Ric's house – for it had never been hers – for what she hoped would be the last time. But even as she stood there, looking at her reflection in the darkened pane of glass amazed by her survival, a shadow of ugliness fell over her. She knew that Ric was coming for her; she could feel it.

Taking a swallow of the strong, black coffee Jason preferred, Elizabeth suppressed a shudder and forced herself to go to the desk to see what was happening.

"I wish you'd found this sooner," Jason said, his long fingers flying over the keyboard as he worked at bypassing the security measures Ric had set up to protect the flash drives information. "It would have answered a lot of questions."

Although, she couldn't disagree, Elizabeth didn't feel the need to defend herself. Jason didn't blame her for forgetting that she'd picked up the flash drive. Part of her expected him to hold her responsible, expected to feel the stinging slap of his accusations and the terrifying anger erupting like lava over her for being so incompetent, but neither had come. Instead, Jason had led her up to his office straight away where they worked for hours to discover what mysteries it held … together.

"I finally got passed the firewall, but now it wants a password," Jason said, rubbing his eyes.

"Let me work on it for awhile," she said, handing him her coffee mug as he stood to stretch.

"Be my guest," he replied, downing the rest of her lukewarm coffee as he walked around the room stretching his legs.

Elizabeth wasn't sure what she could do. She wasn't a hacker. She barely managed to check her email without making a computer crash, but Jason needed a break. He'd stared at the monitor so long his eyes were probably crossed and her biggest contribution so far had been the copious pots of coffee she'd brewed while he worked his computer magic.

She typed in Ric's birthday and then Trevor's with the same result, _Access Denied_.

"I'm going down for a refill," Jason said. "Do you want anything?"

"No," she replied distractedly as she typed in the name of Ric's deceased and much martyred mother. It didn't hit but it did give her an idea.

She had to do a quick internet search but found what she was looking for without too much difficulty. Without having any idea if she was even on the right track, she entered in a series of numbers and hit enter.

"Jason!"

"What?" he asked after sprinting up the stairs with refills for both of them.

She smiled victoriously. "We're in."

He came around the desk to look over her shoulder and then grinned. "You're amazing."

Taking a mug from him, she took a sip, mostly to hide her pleased smile at his praise.

"What did you do?" he asked, setting his mug on the desk and leaning over the back of the chair to get a closer look at the files listed on the screen.

"It was the date his mom died. He worshipped her."

Jason tugged on the end of her ponytail. "You did good."

"Thanks," she murmured, ducking her head. "Here, you sit and figure out what all this is supposed to be."

Jason sat down and opened a file as she drifted over towards the shelves of books that lined most of one wall, still reveling in the glow of his compliments. Pretending to examine the contents of the library he'd amassed, she hugged his words close. She was _amazing_. She _did good_. And he hadn't sounded surprised in the least about it either.

"Sonofabitch."

"What?" she asked, startled by his outburst and whirling around to see what was the matter. "What is it?"

"The bastard stole military secrets," Jason said, putting a hand to his forehead as if he couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"How would Ric steal –" she started to ask and then stopped, the answer coming to her. "Trevor."

Jason nodded his agreement. "Come here. Come look at this."

She wasn't altogether sure she wanted to see any of it. Didn't they kill people for knowing too much? She didn't want to know. She didn't care. All she wanted was to be left alone. But in the end, she went reluctantly to Jason's side and looked at the documents marked _Top Secret_. Understanding little of the contents, she watched as Jason seemingly absorbed it, muttering under his breath, and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Where did it come from?" she asked, a hot ball of fear burning in her stomach.

"The Pentagon."

Mouthing the words silently to herself in an effort to make them sink in, Elizabeth found that it was impossible to comprehend. It was so far out of her depth. What had Ric been thinking to get involved in something like that? It was out of his league.

"What is it?"

"A new weapon the DARPA is working on. Do you know how much this information would be worth to foreign governments or terrorist groups?" Jason asked.

"More than my life," she answered, feeling dead inside. Her knees started to give out but Jason was there, catching her and half-carrying her over to a chair to sit down.

"Elizabeth, listen to me," he said beseechingly. "This is good. Now we know why Trevor called off the hit, why Ric is so determined to find out."

She thought she might humiliate herself by throwing up on his shoes.

"We have what they want. They won't kill you until they have it back."

Peering at him in numb shock she wanted to ask if that was supposed to make her feel better, but didn't want to chance opening her mouth.

"I won't let that happen," he assured her as if able to read her mind.

Drowning, she was drowning.

"Look at me, Elizabeth," Jason commanded, gripping her hand.

She clung to him as if he were her last life line, lost herself in the blue of his eyes, and worked on getting her bearings as he crouched beside her, infinitely patient. In that moment she could believe that everything would be all right. As long as Jason was there to hold her hand she would be just fine.

"Okay?" he asked when she blinked rapidly, coming back to herself.

Nodding haltingly, she tried for a smile. "Now what?" she whispered, glancing towards the desk.

Gently, Jason laid the hand he'd been holding in her lap and then stood up. "We take it back to the people it belongs to and you tell them everything you know about the Lansings and how you came into possession of it."

"To the Pentagon?"

Jason retrieved the flash drive and went to put in a wall safe she hadn't even noticed was there despite it being right out in the open. He hadn't even bothered to hang the clichéd painting over it.

"Not exactly. I've got a friend that works for the government; he'll make sure it gets in the right hands. We can trust him."

Elizabeth shook her head, still in shock. "Sure. Whatever you think is best."

"Ric, Trevor and whoever else they are working with will go down for treason and a whole bunch of other crimes I couldn't begin to list. You'll be free."

Freedom was her deepest desire, but it wasn't just about her anymore. "What about you? Won't the truth come out about what you do? You could go to jail, too."

Jason shrugged. "Maybe you could skip the part where you hired me to kill Ric and then kidnapped you. I haven't really done anything else that could be considered illegal."

Except for faking her death, Elizabeth thought but did not say out loud. There were more important things. Things she had been asking herself for days, since the whole thing had started.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me? Putting yourself at risk?"

Jason sat down on the corner of the desk and crossed his arms. "I don't know."

That wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for. It was a non-answer. No help at all.

"Do you often do things without knowing why?"

Jason sighed. "No."

"Well, that's … confusing," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Tell me about it."

Elizabeth laughed and Jason smiled crookedly, enjoying the sound even if it was at his expense, and then the lights went out.

"Jason?" she whispered questioningly, the fear bleeding through that tiny hushed word.

He moved without thinking, surged across the feet between them and yanked her to the floor. "Get down." They weren't alone.


	10. Chapter 10

Listening for the creak of a floor board or the rustle of clothing, anything to reveal the location of the intruder, Jason let his eyes adjusts to the inky darkness they had abruptly been plunged. He could hear the haunting call of the night birds outside, the fire crackling downstairs, and Elizabeth's harsh breaking at his side.

She was scared and he didn't blame her; he wasn't too happy about the situation either, but he was not afraid. He was, however, pissed.

Somewhere along the way he had miscalculated. He'd kept them there in the middle of the woods, positive that it was safe, that he had everything under control. He'd been wrong on all counts and it just might get them both killed.

"Jason?" Elizabeth breathed, her body ridged as a board, the fear radiating off her in waves that washed over him and threatened to pull them both under.

He needed her to keep her head. Speaking softly, normally, because a whisper tended to carry, he said, "I need you to crawl under the desk and stay there."

"What's going on?" she asked, staying put.

"I'm going downstairs to find out."

"You can't."

There was not any time to debate the matter, so he ignored her protest. "If you hear shooting, get to the bathroom and lay down in the tub." At her sharp intake of breath, Jason felt his resolve start to crumble, but knew that he could not let his confusing emotions for this woman to blind him to what had to be done. "Can you do that?"

"Y-yes."

"Get moving."

She wasn't quiet about it, but every noise was magnified to his ears in the eerie silence.

Waiting until she was in position before he moved, Jason rolled agilely to his feet and walked soundlessly across the room. The safe was not electronic – he only trusted technology so far and it required something they didn't have at the moment, electricity – so he was very happy that he'd had the foresight to go with something he could rely on.

Though he was able to see, he did not need sight to enter the combination and remove the things he needed. That done, Jason got don on his knees to avoid the windows and possible sniper fire, and crawled to where Elizabeth hid.

"Take these," he said, handing her the flash drive and his cell phone. "If I don't come back, get out of the house however you can and call the cops. Tell them everything."

Her eyes, huge and luminous in the moonlight slanting through the windows behind them, were filled with terror. He did not want to leave her alone and unprotected, but he could not chance the intruder finding them first. Wrapping his hand around hers, the one that clutched the drive, he gazed reassuringly into her eyes, channeling his strength into her.

"I _will_ come back."

She blinked twice very slowly then nodded her head and before she drew her next breath he was gone.

Elizabeth huddled beneath the desk, Jason's cell phone in one sweaty hand and the flash drive in the other. She tried to be as still as possible, to control her erratic breathing, but her heart was beating so loudly, a bass drum in her head, that she was sure that everyone within a ten mile radius could hear it, and the more she tried to slow it the louder became.

The possibility that it could be Ric downstairs made her dizzy. He would recognize the pounding of her heart, hear it from the floor below, and locate her hiding place. Jason would try to stop him but she knew better than anyone that nothing ever stood in Ric's way when he wanted something.

Over the din in her head Elizabeth had a conversation with herself. _Ric doesn't do his own dirty work. He wouldn't come himself._ _He would send someone and have me taken back to wherever he waited. _Convinced she was right about that at least, Elizabeth relaxed marginally, the constricting pain in her chest easing. Leaning against the side of the desk she closed her eyes and began to pray.

A loud crash from below had her jumping out of her skin and bumping her head on the bottom of the desk. Rubbing the top of her head with the heel of one hand, she listened to the sound of breaking glass, splintering wood, and occasional animal grunt, but no gunfire.

There was a decision to be made; she could hide there like Jason told her or she could grow a backbone and check things out on her own. As she'd promised to take a more active role in her life and stop letting people decide for her, the choice was easy, but that didn't mean she wasn't scared stiff.

Hesitantly emerging, Elizabeth crawled over until she could sit against the wall out of the way of the windows and hidden from anyone coming up the stairs by one of the wide, overstuffed chairs Jason seemed so fond. A thud from the living room surprised a small sound from her lips, something between a squeak and a yelp. Biting her bottom lip to keep any more noises from escaping, Elizabeth looked around for something to use for protection.

Unfortunately for her Jason didn't have any stray baseball bats lying around his office and she did not think that a book from his library, no matter how thick, would provide much assistance if she had to fend off an attacker. Rolling her eyes upward, disgusted with herself, she noticed that the door to the safe was hanging open above her.

Checking her pockets to make sure the flash drive and phone hadn't fallen out, Elizabeth used her legs to push herself up the wall until she was at her full height and could look inside the safe. The gun she'd used was inside and although she had only one lesson and the gun felt foreign in her hands, it would make her feel better if she was armed. Without allowing herself the chance to second guess it, she retrieved the gun and checked to make sure the clip was full just as Jason had shown her. Relieved to find that it was loaded, Elizabeth slid the clip back into the chamber and the resulting click was thunder to her sensitive ears.

Her knees were shaking as she made her way to the top of the stairs, the weapon held out in front of her with both hands like she'd seen them do in the movies. She hoped like hell that she didn't do anything stupid like shoot herself … or worse, Jason.

* * *

Jason was tackled from behind as soon as he stepped into the living room and took out a really nice pine side table and a Tiffany lamp on his way down. Landing with a bone jarring thud he wasted little time mourning the piece of furniture or nursing his aching ribs, and popped back up, delivering a blow to his attacker's nose followed by a sharp kick to the knee.

He could have saved himself the effort and shot him, but he wanted to have a word first. Though he had his suspicions on with whom he was dealing, there was the need to be sure.

Whoever it was certainly didn't fuck around. They must have sent the biggest bastard they could find because he had to be at least six-five and three hundred pounds. Jason had his work cut out for him.

The Giant, as Jason had already come to think of him, knocked the gun out of his hand, sending it skidding across the floor and under a chair. _Shit._ Jason went in low and took the Giant down, groaning with the effort.

They grappled, each delivering their fair share of short and powerful jabs wherever they could reach before the Giant threw him off. As Jason was no lightweight himself it was an unexpected move and when his head connected with the arm of a chair, he saw stars.

Still he dragged himself up, moving slower than usual, but ready to go however many rounds it took. Blocking the Giants next punch, Jason quit fooling around and went in for the kill. He slashed out with the side of his hand, aiming for his opponent's throat in hopes of crushing the trachea, but the other man moved at the last moment and only ended up bent over gagging. It was enough and Jason lunged for his gun.

While he groped blindly for the weapon he heard the front door shatter as someone, or several someones, he didn't know for sure, kicked it in.

"Jason! Watch out!"

It was if everything was happening in slow motion. Jason watched as the Giant stood, pulling a gun out of nowhere and leveled it at him as the newest arrival did the same with Elizabeth. All he could think in that moment was that one of them was going to die.

Refusing to let Elizabeth down, Jason played the odds. Efficiently, he shot the Giant twice; once in the head and once in the heart. He went down like a mighty Redwood. Lightening fast he turned to take out the other gunman, but Elizabeth, always full of surprises, opened fire. She emptied the clip and somehow got lucky, the guy fired just as wildly as she before going down.

The empty revolver clicked as she continued to pull the trigger, tears streaming down her face. "Hey," Jason said quietly as he made her give up the gun, "it's okay."

Elizabeth shook her head and he didn't know whether she was disagreeing with him or what, but she could not take her eyes off the man she had shot who was lying on the floor holding his gut where he'd been hit.

"Get your things," Jason told her. They couldn't stay there any longer than it took to gather what they'd need and he wanted her out of the room while he cleaned up. He tucked her gun in the waist of his jeans.

"Is – is he dead?"

Her gaze had fallen on the Giant, sprawled practically at her feet, his blood already clotting on the formerly beautiful Persian rug.

"Yes. Go get your bag. We've got to go."

He didn't have time to stand around talking. Leaving her frozen in place, Jason went to the fatally wounded gunman, kicked away the gun he'd dropped, and squatted down.

"You work for Alcazar?"

"Go to hell," the man groaned, curling into the fetal position, trying to stem the blood flowing from the gaping hole in his abdomen.

Taking that as a yes, Jason rested his hands on his knees, making sure the other man saw the gun he held there. "Who told you where to find me?"

"Fuck you …" the rest of his words were cut off when he started hacking up blood.

"You're going to die, bleed out right here on my floor. It's going to be slow and painful," Jason told him, practically whispering in his ear, mindful that Elizabeth lingered somewhere behind him. Time was precious. Who knew when or if more men were coming.

"Tell me who sent you here and I'll make it quick."

The man looked at him, the life already dimming in his dark eyes; he knew the end was near. He coughed up some more blood. "Corinthos."

* * *

Elizabeth did not even have the breath to tell Jason to slow down as he towed her by the hand through the forest behind his house, practically carrying her when she did not move fast enough for his liking. He hadn't said a single word to her since before he killed that man she had wounded.

She could still see it in her head. The way Jason had stood up and so calmly, so coldly shot that man in the head. There was no hesitation, not then or when he'd disappeared into his bedroom and returned seconds later with a backpack startling similar to the one she had packed just hours before. Had it really only been hours? It seemed as if it happened days ago.

Jason had bundled her into her coat when she could not get her arms or hands to work and only stood there gaping at the carnage. He buttoned her coat and slipped her pack on her back without a single complaint and led her out back to the garage where he left her for a few moments. She stood exactly where he left her, unmoving, uncaring, and when he came back they began their mad dash into the woods.

They must have been hiking for over an hour and he wasn't even winded. She, on the other hand, could barely put one foot in front of the other. She was tried, wanted to sit down and rest, just for a minute, but he kept pressing on.

Stumbling on an exposed tree root, Elizabeth's hand slipped free from his and she went down and stayed down. "I … can't go on. Need a minute."

The intense frown her wore told her he wasn't happy about stopping, but he didn't say anything or make her get up off the frozen ground. If she didn't know better she would think that he was angry with her.

"Do you still have my cell phone?"

Blinking in confusion at the brusque demand, it took Elizabeth a moment to realize what he was talking about. She dug the phone out of her pocket and handed it to him.

He took the phone and stepped a few feet away to make his call. She didn't care what he did as long as she got to sit while he was doing it. Finding a log to sit on, she got up off the cold ground and huddled deeper in her coat to stay warm.

"Just a little further," Jason told her as he did the craziest thing she'd seen in the last ten minutes, started breaking his phone – their last link to the world and help – and tossed the pieces in different directions.

"Can you make it another couple of miles or do you want me to carry you?"

At first he thought he was joking, but he wasn't. He was completely serious. He _would_ carry her however far he planned on going if he had to and the thought was positively stupefying to her.

"I can walk."

Jason nodded. "We need to keep moving."

She followed his gaze back the direction they'd come and caught the scent of burning wood, like the scent she'd enjoyed while sitting by the fireplace back at the cabin, but bigger and much hotter. Elizabeth shrugged it off and concentrated on Jason instead. "Do you think there are more coming after us?"

Jason looked at her, his pale eyes silver in the hazy gray light just before dawn; they were haunting. "Yes. Maybe not tonight, but yes, there will be more."

The way he said it sent a shiver up her spine. Two people were already dead; she'd shot one of them, but both weighted heavily on her conscious. How many more would die because of her and what had mistakenly come into her possession?

Elizabeth was almost grateful when they resumed their trek. At least the activity kept her almost warm and her mind off her troubles, of which there were many. Jason's pace did not relent, but she didn't complain – not even to herself – and the trees did not seem as dense or the ground as rough so she was having a much easier time.

It was all because of that stupid flash drive, she told herself. If she never picked it up they would not be forced to flee in the middle of the night. She was just starting to feel safe in Jason's cozy little cabin. No one knew where she was and she was beginning to relax and believe that she might just make it.

How had they found her so fast? Jason had told her time after time that they were safe there, that _she _was safe. Something must have happened. Something Jason wasn't telling her.

Stopping short, Elizabeth jerked her hand out of his causing him to look back in question. The look on her face must have told him what he needed to know because his mouth turned down and his brow puckered in a scowl.

"What is going on?" she demanded.

"We don't have time for this right now," he replied, sounding exasperated.

"Make time. I want to know what is going on. What aren't you telling me?"

Jason dragged a hand through his shaggy hair, turning away from her, and biting off a curse that had her eyebrows shooting upwards. When he faced her once more, his face was an impassive mask, but she knew him well enough to comprehend how mad he was and that that anger was partially directed at her.

"Your boyfriend sold us out."


	11. Chapter 11

"My boyfriend?" Elizabeth repeated incredulously. "Are you insane?"

"Forget it," Jason said with a shake of his head.

Elizabeth did not whether to laugh hysterically or cry. What, did he think she was having some sort of hot affair? As if she wanted anyone like that after putting up with someone like Ric for the past several years. She wasn't even sure if she would ever be able to allow another man that close to her again. But to have this man, the one person that was supposed to be on her side, accuse her of – of having a boyfriend; it was not only preposterous but hurtful.

"No, I'm not going to 'forget it,'" she said, charging after him when he started to walk away. "Exactly who am I supposed to be, what, dating, because black eyes are such a turn on?"

Jason's response was to adjust his pack and keep walking. Elizabeth was not a violent person – with the exception of putting a hit out on her husband (he had it coming) and shooting a man she didn't even know (ditto) – but just then, she wanted to do some serious damage to the man she had come to think of as her friend rather than simply her savior. The very nerve of him, knowing what she'd been through, to suggest that she was the sort of person to cheat on her spouse, such as he was, made her so mad she could not see straight.

"Do you take me for some sort of femme fatale, snap my fingers and men come running to do my bidding?" she shouted at his back, the mere idea so ridiculous she almost laughed. She was no ones idea of a great beauty.

Jason did not respond. He only continued to walk through the woods leaving her to follow if she wished. If he wanted to be childish and resort of giving her the silent treatment that was fine, just dandy, but that did not mean that she had to return the favor.

"I cannot believe you! You are the very last person who should be judging me. You're a hitman for crying out loud. You kill people for a living! A murderer, and _you_ are judging _me_?"

His shoulders jerked as if struck by a physical blow, but Elizabeth did not relent. It had been so long since she had let herself express the torrent of emotions that rushed through her at any given moment that she found that she could not stop. The words flew from her mouth before they registered in her brain. Years of pent up anger finally boiled over.

"Do you really think I would be here with _you_ if I had a boyfriend waiting for me somewhere?"

Jason whirled around so fast that she instinctively fell back a step or two, but the odd thing was she wasn't afraid; not of Jason.

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No," Elizabeth deadpanned and the disbelief on his face was priceless.

"Was this what you were like before you hooked up with Lansing or is this just something I bring out in you?"

"No. I was worse."

His lips twitched and Elizabeth could tell he was trying really hard not to be amused. She smiled shyly, a little bewildered how he could switch so swiftly from irate to jovial.

"What is your relationship with Sonny exactly?" he asked, wiping the grin right off her face.

"Sonny," she squeaked. "You think …. Really?"

That so wasn't what she'd expected. It was absurd actually, but he was serious, she could tell by the pensive frown that furrowed his brow.

"Sonny and I are friends, just friends."

Jason gave her one of those strange searching looks of his that always left her feeling stripped bare, and then glanced down at his watch. "We've got to get moving or we'll miss our ride."

He didn't believe her. That more than anything hurt her. For some reason that she could not begin to comprehend Jason truly believed that she was having an affair with Sonny. He probably even thought that they had conspired to have Ric killed so that they could be together and he was just there to do the dirty work.

Stunned, just blown completely away, Elizabeth followed in his wake, unable to say a single word.

She didn't know how long they walked but the distant winter sun had finally come up making it much easier to navigate the rough terrain. Elizabeth did not enjoy the way the light sparkled on the fresh snow or how many different colors the sky turned before going an endless blue – almost the same color as Jason's eyes. Her total concentration was required to keep from falling on her face as Jason no longer kept her hand firmly grasped in his, he barely glanced in her direction, and Elizabeth found that she missed his concern as well as the comfort of shared strength.

When they abruptly left the shelter of the trees, she discovered they'd reached a narrow gravel road and when Jason stopped she assumed they were wherever _there_ was. Jason checked his watch. Elizabeth rubbed her aching thighs and dreamt of a nice long soak in a hot bath. She was about to inquire on the mysterious ride he'd spoken of when the rumble of an engine cut through the heavy morning silence.

An old, but beautifully maintained, blue and white Ford Bronco came over the hill and rolled to a stop in front of them. Jason stepped forward to open the door.

"Meg," he greeted gruffly with a nod as he shrugged out of his pack and tossed it in the back.

"Mornin', Jason," came the husky reply.

Elizabeth couldn't see the driver as Jason's broad shoulders blocked her view. She pictured this Meg as a sultry brunette, legs up to her neck and a body to match that sexy voice.

"Is that her?" Meg asked.

"Yes," he replied tersely and Elizabeth found herself hastily thrust into the backseat of the Bronco through no power of her own.

Glaring at the back of Jason's head as he got in the passenger seat and closed the door, Elizabeth forgot all about her curiosity regarding the other woman until Meg spoke again.

"Did ya know your house is on fire?"

Taken aback, Elizabeth peered out the window and saw puffs of smoke rising above the tree line. That was what she'd smelt before, Jason's beautiful log cabin burning.

"I know," he growled and Elizabeth's heart broke for him. He'd never said it but she knew how much that house meant to him. It was his sanctuary and he had shared it with her … to his own determent it would seem.

"Want me to call the fire department?" Meg asked as she managed an impressive u-turn in the tight space and drove them back the way she came.

"Let it burn."

Elizabeth gasped, shocked and dismayed by how unaffected he sounded, but neither occupant of the front seat noticed.

"Have it your way," Meg said, but sounded as if she didn't agree with him either.

Pleased to know that she wasn't the only one that cared that Jason's home was burning to the ground, Elizabeth got her first look at Meg and decided that her mental picture of the woman didn't even come close to the reality.

As it turned out Meg was a very attractive woman with a sleek bob of iron gray hair and when she glanced into the rearview mirror, Elizabeth saw that she had moss green eyes the shone with the good humor and intelligence that came with living half a century or more. As far as she knew Meg could still have legs up to her neck, but as she had thirty years give or take on Jason, Elizabeth felt foolish for the momentary stab of jealousy she'd felt.

It wasn't as if Jason was anything to her. They were supposed to be friends, but that appeared to be in doubt just then. A friend did not accuse another friend of being an adulterous whore. Elizabeth was mad all over again and would have kicked the back of his seat but the upholstery was white and her boots were muddy. She settled for merely glaring in his direction and mentally making note of everything she would say when they were alone again.

"You going to introduce us or have you forgotten the few manners you've got?" Meg said to Jason. "It's only fitting seeing as I'm the one that picked out everything including her underwear."

Involuntarily looking down at what she was wearing, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel embarrassed that a stranger had selected all her clothes, though she supposed it was better than Jason doing it as she had imagined.

"Meg, this is Renee – Renee, Meg," Jason said in a resigned way, like he couldn't say no to the older woman even if he wanted.

Elizabeth was thrown at first by the use of her alias as it was the first time she'd ever been referred to as Renee. It was very strange. She better start getting used to it. Elizabeth was dead.

"Nice to meet you, Renee, even under these circumstances," Meg said, sparing a smile in her direction.

"You, too. Thanks for the clothes."

Meg chuckled throatily. "Always glad to help out a neighbor. Though I'd've paid good money to see Jason in a woman's clothing store."

The man in question remained in a stony silence. Elizabeth sighed and went back to staring out the window. Elizabeth or Renee, it didn't seem to matter. Either way her life was a mess.

* * *

"I don't like this. It is getting too messy," Trevor told the two men gathered in his study. Things were not going the way he had planned. Surrounded by incompetent fools as he was it came as little surprise, but it still angered him that one inconsequential woman could throw his whole carefully orchestrated plot into total chaos.

"As I told you before," Lorenzo said in a bored tone, "Morgan is not someone to be toyed with."

"Where did my wife even meet that thug?" Ric asked, making the word wife sound like something dirty.

Trevor ignored his son, having had heard enough of the preoccupation he had with finding his wayward wife when there were things of more vital importance to consider. "Unless Mr. Morgan possesses some sort of super strength I do not understand why your men could not deal with him and retrieve the woman."

Lorenzo tapped a slim cigar against the silver case he had removed it from as if considering his answer. "It is never wise to underestimate your opponents. I sent two of my best men and they are now dead. Morgan and Elizabeth have fled."

"What about that – that Spencer man, what did he say?" Trevor asked, sputtering in agitation. There was a private charter waiting at the airport to take him back to Washington. Leaving things the way they were did not rest well with him. They need solutions and fast.

"Luke will not be telling anyone anything for quite some time," Lorenzo said, taking a puff of his cigar. "He miraculously survived our last visit and is now in a coma."

"And Corinthos?"

"It would appear that Morgan does not trust him as much as Sonny originally believed. He could not learn where the girl was or even if she was with Morgan at all. We assumed she was with him. For all we know she could be anywhere."

* * *

Jason had a bad habit of shutting down when everything went to hell. Although, perhaps calling it bad was not quite true as the ability to compartmentalize and detach himself from the situation had helped get him out of some pretty tough jams. At least that was what he'd kept telling himself as Elizabeth's words rained down on him like the wrath of God on the way out of the woods.

His first priority was getting them out of there and doing his damnedest to keep them both alive. That was not the time to get into whether she was screwing Sonny. It had been a mistake to bring it up like that; he regretted it immensely. No one had ever accused him of being tactful.

Apparently Elizabeth had run out of things to say because she hadn't spoken, not once, since Meg dropped them off at the airstrip. It was worrisome. Elizabeth liked to talk … a lot, and after she got over her initial shyness, about anything and everything that popped into her head. For a man accustomed to silence, his ears sometimes rang after spending time in her company. The strange thing was he liked it.

The easy rapport they'd previously shared was over. He ruined that and did not know how to fix it. Not even an apology seemed good enough.

He could explain to her that he was angry about what had happened. It was his fault for being careless after all. Lulled into a false sense of security and caught unawares because of it. It had been a rookie mistake that came close to ending them both. Damn right he was angry.

Jason couldn't even find comfort in knowing that he had been right to be suspicious of Sonny after that phone call. If he'd been smart he would have listened to his gut, packed Elizabeth up and got the hell out of there.

Maybe it was a good thing he was retiring. He obviously did not have what it took to stay in the game.

Elizabeth could probably understand all of that, she might even forgive him for being a jerk, but she would want to talk about Sonny.

He did not want to talk about Sonny, not with her.

The idea of Elizabeth involved with Sonny had bothered him from the very beginning. There were probably a dozen excuses he could make to justify his feelings, but that was all they would be, excuses.

The real reason was the same as the one for why he had lied to her when she asked about his motivation for helping her. He hated it. They very idea was impossible he knew and would only bring heartache, but none of that changed anything.

It was just something he would have to get over. Accept it wasn't going to happen and move on.

So being able to close himself off wasn't a bad habit at all, only one that would ensure that he did not make anymore mistakes.

Jason checked the altitude and then radioed the tower to give them an ETA. They'd refuel one more time after this before heading to their real destination.

If anyone wanted to follow them they'd rack up a lot of frequent flier miles, but Jason had access to places that the average person did not. They could still be located but it would not be easy.

"Where are we going?"

Jason glanced over at Elizabeth in the co-pilots seat, a pair of dark aviator sunglasses shielding her eyes from the intense light and his own probing gaze. She'd been quiet for so long that he thought she was asleep or maybe he'd just preferred thinking that than to consider the alternative. He spoke to the tower once more to confirm the previous transmission and then flipped the microphone up so he could answer her.

"Virginia. We're going to Virginia."


	12. Chapter 12

Elizabeth was afraid to close her eyes.

Afraid of what images would haunt her dreams … not just for that night but for the rest of her life. Too much had happened. Too much had changed. She had killed a man. How was she supposed to deal with that?

It didn't seem to matter that it had been in self-defense. Not to her. Not when she could still see the look on the man's face when he realized one of her wild shots had struck home, saw the blood pour out of him to pool on the floor as she just stood there.

Curling up as tight as she could, the blankets pulled up to her chin, Elizabeth gazed across the scant inches that separated the two double beds. Apparently Jason didn't have any trouble putting it out of his head. He had collapsed face first onto the bed closest to the door as soon as they'd entered. He'd probably been asleep before he ever hit the mattress.

She knew he had to be exhausted after flying them all over creation and she supposed that killing someone didn't bother him anymore. Though it made her wonder, and not for the first time, how anyone could live like that, where human life meant so little, she did not broach the subject with him.

Whatever camaraderie they shared was lost. All that remained were tense silences that reminded her too much of the life she had left behind.

She hated it.

Even though she didn't understand his reasons, of which he admittedly had none, Elizabeth had begun to trust him. For awhile she even believed that they were friends and she really could have used one, but it wasn't meant to be.

Alone again, something she should be used to, Elizabeth watched Jason sleep and wondered why she was cursed to make mistake after mistake. Soon she found her breathing matching Jason's deep, even rhythm as her eyes grew heavier and heavier until she drifted off.

* * *

As a first year, sleep deprived intern, desperate not to humiliate her parents in front of the colleagues, Emily Quartermaine relied heavily on caffeine to get her through the endless days and nights at the hospital, and nobody had better coffee than Kelly's. Although, just at that moment, she was wishing she had just settled for a cup of the sludge they served in the cafeteria. A hole in her stomach lining would have been preferable to an awkward but unavoidable conversation with someone she could barely stand.

"Good morning, Ric," she said politely but did not smile, hoping to discourage any further discourse and mentally urging Tammy to hurry with her take-out order.

She didn't care if he was the district attorney or the son of a senator; there was just something about him that gave her the creeps.

"On your way to the hospital I see," he said indicating her green scrubs visible under her brown cashmere coat. "I stopped in for some breakfast myself before heading to the station to see if they've learned anything new about my wife."

Instantly feeling contrite, Emily said, "I was so sorry to hear about that. Have they found anything at all?"

"They think she may be alive now, but that's it," he answered and then ran a hand over his haggard face as if he couldn't bear the waiting, the not knowing, much longer.

Not knowing what else to do, Emily patted his shoulder. "I'll keep you both in my prayers."

"Thank you," Ric said, recovering slightly though he still looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in days. "Everyone has been so kind, so supportive, the longer she's gone …"

"You have to have faith that they will find her," she said as she paid Tammy and started doctoring her coffee cream and too much sugar.

"Yes. Yes, you're right. I'm starting to understand how your family must have felt. To have someone you love just up and leave without a word, it's awful."

Her confusion must have shown on her face because Ric quickly said, "I'm speaking of your brother, Jason. Didn't he disappear some years ago?"

Stomach clenching painfully, Emily felt her face close up and her hand shook as she put the to-go lid back on her cup. No one in the family spoke of him anymore. The wound was still too raw, the one subject off limits too anyone, and most people seemed to get that or else had forgotten that he had ever existed. If only.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" Ric asked, but Emily got the oddest feeling that he was watching her, reading every nuance of her expression, and waiting for her to do or say something.

"You'll have to excuse me, I'm going to be late for work," she said and turned away, thinking that he would take the hint that the conversation was over.

"Yes, of course," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you by bringing up your brother."

Emily nodded, not wanting to be rude but couldn't help but add, "I don't have a brother anymore."

* * *

Jason slammed down the phone with a muttered curse. If he didn't get a hold of John soon he would have to rethink his entire plan.

The flash drive lying on the table between the two double beds changed everything. It gave them some power over the situation but it also meant that he had to call in another favor. The information it contained was too valuable, too dangerous. They had to get rid of it fast.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to will away the headache that was brewing only to jerk them back open when Elizabeth banged the palm of her hand on the side of the television. The set was so old it still had knobs and would only hold its focus for ten minutes at a time. The sound reverberated around in his head until it made his teeth rattle.

"Knock that off before you break it," he said wearily.

He could ask for another set, a different room, or simply move them some place nicer, but he was exhausted and the motel was the first one they'd come to and the kind that took cash and didn't ask any questions. The best thing he could say about the faded and threadbare room was that it was clean.

"It's already broken," she replied. "Besides, it's the only company I've got since you won't talk to me."

Jason had to bite his tongue to stop the angry retort. The last thing he wanted was to start the fight she was spoiling for, but the woman drove him nuts.

It didn't help that they were stuck in such close quarters. Maybe he should have taken her to D.C. and dropped her and that damn flash drive off at the Pentagon. Considering how she felt about him at the moment she probably would have preferred it. But no, he would not, could rest until he knew she was safe.

His plan was so simple it was laughable. After flying all over creation, he had flown them to Newport News, Virginia. It was a city of considerable size so that they could get lost if need be and as he had been stationed at Fort Eustis – Fort Useless for those in the know – for a couple of years, he knew the area well.

There was also the fact that they were only three hours from Langley and CIA headquarters where his good friend, John O'Brien, happened to work. With Sonny's betrayal Jason recognized more than ever that he had to be especially cautious with those he trusted. People like Cruz and John could be trusted, Jason believed that whole heartedly. He had to because there were not too many options open to them at that point.

The disposable cell phone he'd picked up on their way to the motel beeped, letting him know that it was fully charged. Unplugging it, Jason put on his coat and went outside to try John one more time before he called it quits and went to Plan B – driving to Langley and walking into the Agency blind. He wanted to test the waters first, let John pave the way for them if he could because he knew the government suits could very well take the flash drive and throw Elizabeth to the wolves. What did they care about one woman compared to millions after all? Well, he cared.

Cared too damn much for his own good.

To his surprise and relief, John actually answered and after Jason gave him the rundown, promised to come that day. With that particular chore taken care of, Jason decided he better call Cruz and find out what was going down in Port Charles.

* * *

"We know she's alive and it is believed that she had help in disappearing," Taggert told the two women sitting across from him.

After the chilly reception he'd gotten from the mother and the clueless response from the father, he was taken aback by the arrival of Elizabeth's older sisters.

"Why would she disappear though?" asked Stephanie, the oldest and clearly the spokesperson.

"We were hoping you could tell us," he answered grimly.

"Probably to get away from that freak show she married," Sarah said tossing her hair over her shoulder and giving Cruz the once over as he walked through the squad room with his phone pressed to his ear.

"Sarah!"

"What? You don't like him anymore than I do," Sarah said in response to her sister's exclamation of embarrassed censure.

If there were three more different women in the world that happened to share the same DNA then he had yet to meet them – and he met all kinds in his work.

Stephanie Larson had the same shallow indent in her chin as her youngest sister and that was where the similarities ended. Her hair was dark blond and cut in a short and not unstylish bob that was probably meant to be practical as she had three children between the ages of five and six months and hazel eyes more gray than blue.

If Sarah Hollingsworth had resembled either of her sisters at one point was impossible to determine. It looked as if she had spent a good deal of time and money changing her appearance, but only her plastic surgeon could say for sure. Her pale blond hair fell to her waist complimented by an orangey fake tan and unnaturally violet eyes. If Stephanie could be called practical then Sarah could only be referred to as outrageous. Even her clothes drew attention, and why not when Taggert had seen the working girls down on Courtland Street wearing more on the hottest summer day, which it most definitely was not.

"We never understood why Lizzie would marry him. He _so_ isn't her type," Sarah concluded.

Taggert was about to ask what Elizabeth's type was when Stephanie cleared her throat, an rosy blush highlighting her cheeks, and leaned forward as if to confide in him. He was beginning to think that the visit from the Webber sisters was the best thing that could have happened to him.

"What you have to understand Lieutenant," she said in a low voice as if afraid of being overheard, "Lizzie and Ric got married so fast that no one even had a chance to get to know him. It seemed so impulsive."

"So Lizzie," Sarah interjected, drawing his gaze back to her momentarily.

"Yes," Stephanie agreed. "Our sister has been known to be quite impulsive, but she always lands on her feet."

That conflicted with everything he had learned about Elizabeth Lansing and that bothered him. It was as if Elizabeth Lansing and Elizabeth Webber were two totally different people and that created even more of a problem for him. Which Elizabeth was the real one?

"Are you close to Elizabeth?" he asked. People changed as they got older. Maybe they were only remembering their sister as she had been as a kid and not as the woman she had grown into.

Sarah snorted and Stephanie shifted in her seat. "We aren't a particularly close family, Lieutenant," she said, lowering her eyes in shame.

"That's an understatement," Sarah muttered with a roll of the eyes.

"I'm almost twelve years older than Lizzie, so …," Stephanie trailed off with a shrug.

"And you, Mrs. Hollingsworth?"

"Just call me Sarah. Calling me Mrs. Hollingsworth makes me feel old." She gave him a flirty wink as if they'd just shared a private joke and Taggert found himself adjusting his tie because it had gotten uncomfortably tight.

"And I suppose you could say that Lizzie and I had a competitive relationship. We were only five years apart in age and didn't always get along, trying to one up each other and that kind of thing."

"Our parents believed that a little sibling rivalry was good for us, would push us to be our very best," Stephanie explained and although she smiled as she said it, it was fleeting and did not reach her eyes.

"You mean mother thought it was good for us. She liked it when we were at each other's throats, thought it was fun. Daddy was always at the hospital with his patients. He didn't have time for his family."

The picture Taggert was getting was not one of a happy home life. The two women before him sounded bitter and resigned. It made him wonder what Elizabeth would say if she were there. Was it why she married Lansing? Did she have a history of running away from bad situations? He was determined to learn all that and more before he was through.

"Do you know what Elizabeth's home life with Ric was like? Was she happy? What did they fight about? Money? Children?"

Both women shook their heads. They didn't know.

"Did he ever hit her?"

The reaction to the question was immediate and not in the way one would expect. They were outraged, not that he would ask, but that anyone would lay a hand on their sister.

"Lizzie would _never_ let anyone, let alone her husband, get away with something like that," Sarah said, slapping a manicured hand on the table. "Never."

"I have to agree with Sarah; Lizzie is … has always been so strong and independent. She would not stand for anything like that. She'd leave. She'd tell someone."

"She'd kick his ass," Sarah spat.

Taggert raised an eyebrow. Elizabeth Lansing didn't look as if she could hurt a fly. But then again, looks could be deceiving.

As if reading his mind, Sarah said, "Oh sure, she looks small but Lizzie's tough … and isn't afraid to fight dirty. I've still got a scar where she bit me once. Just because I told her she had a big head and that brat bit me! Can you believe that?"

"Shut up, Sarah," Stephanie said and her tone told him that she thought her sister was a drama queen _and_ talked too damn much, but was likely too much a lady to ever say it aloud. She sighed heavily and rubbed her temples before lifting her eyes to meet his.

"Listen, Lieutenant, we may not be close, we may not know Lizzie very well, but she is our sister and we care about her. How can we help you find her?"

* * *

"Tell me about your sisters?" Jason asked as she hung his coat on the back of a chair.

Elizabeth looked up from the road atlas she was studying. "Why, do you want to accuse them of something, too?"

Aggravated, Jason rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. That right there, her antagonistic attitude and thinly, hell, it was all but transparent, resentment, is why he had stayed outside in the cold for the better part of two hours. He did not want to fight with her. It served no purpose. They had to be able to work together. But she wasn't going to let it go until they had it out.

"Why won't you believe me when I say that I am _not_ involved with Sonny … not like you are thinking anyway?" she asked, staring at him with those wide aquamarine eyes that could very well prove to be his undoing. "And he would never sell either of us out. Sonny isn't like that."

"Are you still defending him?" He was sick to death of hearing her talk about Sonny.

Crossing her arms defensively, Elizabeth said, "He's my friend. I thought he was your friend, too."

"This is not about who your friend is and who isn't," he replied tiredly. "This is about who has the power, who wants it, and who you have to screw over to get it."

The expression on her face was stricken as she arms dropped to her sides. For all the ugliness that she'd paid witness to and been victim of, Elizabeth was naïve in many ways. She wanted to believe the best in people. He hated that he was the one to ruin yet another one of her illusions, but her life might depend on knowing and accepting the reality of the situation.

She stood, tucking her loose and curling hair behind her ears and clearing her throat, which he imagined was clogged with tears, with a delicate cough. "If you really think that then why are you sticking your neck out for me?"

The last time she asked him that question he lied and said he didn't know, but it was becoming harder to lie to her, and harder still to lie to himself. Difficult as it was, he would continue to lie to both of them. The truth would only complicate things and her life was enough of a fucked up mess without him adding to it. If she had to go on hating him then he was prepared for that.

"Don't try to turn me into a hero; you'll only disappoint yourself," he said, his tone almost mocking and her visible flinch in response shamed him. So much that he had to look away.

His head jerked around when the door to their room banged open and just in time to see her run out without so much as a sweater on.

"Shit."

He caught her less than ten steps from the door, likely because she'd remembered that she didn't know the area and had no where to go. Grabbing her around the waist, Jason lifted her few inches off the ground. Elizabeth kicked and fought but did not scream for help.

"Stop before you hurt yourself," he said and then had to block a knee to the groin. She was damn slippery and harder to hold onto than he would have thought.

However, it was clear that her goal was to hurt him, so she kept on wriggling and fighting.

"Keeping yourself entertained I see."

Jason turned and saw that John had arrived and the distraction gave Elizabeth the opportunity to get in a few smacks and a particularly painful kick to his shin. He resolved it by throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back into the room where he set her lightly on her feet.

Braced for another attack, a slap to the face at the very least, he was equally surprised when she whirled around with one last death glare, marched into the bathroom and slammed the door.

"I like her. She's got spunk," John said with a laugh.

Sighing heavily, Jason said, 'She's in a lot of trouble."

Sobering immediately, John nodded in agreement. "I gathered that from what you said on the phone but I'm going to need to talk to her. Get a statement and then have a look at what you've got."

Jason gestured towards the bathroom door with one hand as he sat down on the end of one bed. "She's pissed at me. She's not coming out."

He could break down the door. It was pretty flimsy looking so it wouldn't take much effort but he doubted if Elizabeth would appreciate it. She was mad enough at him already without adding to his list of transgressions.

"Still got a way with women I see. Can I give it a go?" John asked, stepping up to the door when Jason shrugged and knocked. "Excuse me, Mrs. Lansing."

"Don't call me that," came the muffled response.

"Okay. Elizabeth, I'm John O'Brien. You can call me Johnny, most everyone does. I'm a friend of Jason's, but please don't hold that against me, and I'm here to help you."

"Why?"

John turned to Jason for help but he just shook his head.

"Well, I guess because it's what friends do and if you want to believe my wife, a pretty nice guy."

"According to Jason there are no such things as _nice_ guys. What's in it for you?"

"I'd love to know what you have been telling her," John said accusingly and Jason shrugged, unconcerned. Rolling his eyes, John continued speaking to the door. "It's more like we'll be helping each other. You need help and you've got something the people I work for want."

"Who do you work for?"

"The CIA." Digging in the pocket of his coat, John pulled out his identification. "If you'll just open the door I can prove it."

There was a long silence on the other side of the door. So long that Jason got worried and tried to remember if there was a window she could've escaped from. He wouldn't put it past her.

"Slide it under the door," she commanded to his great relief.

John grumbled but did it anyhow. "I promise it did not come out of a cereal box."

It went quiet again so John stepped back; obviously believing that she would come out, but he didn't know just how stubborn she could be. Jason stood up; ready to kick in the door no matter how mad she got about it. Enough was enough.

Then the door slowly creaked open and Elizabeth stood in the doorway. "Okay, but I've got some conditions."


	13. Chapter 13

"I want a divorce," Elizabeth demanded. She wanted to start her new life clean, with no ugly stains of the past to haunt her. The scars she wore were memory enough, thank you very much.

"We should be able to make that happen for you. Absolutely," John responded with a nod.

"And full immunity for Jason," she added, lifting her chin in challenge. "I don't want him to be held accountable for anything he has done to help me."

John cupped his forehead with one hand and shook his head. "And what exactly has he done?"

Elizabeth looked at Jason who still sat at the end of her bed and he shrugged his consent. "Well, for starters, he kidnapped me … but only to protect me from my father-in-law because he hired him to kill me. Of course I'd already hired him to kill Ric, so I guess I got dibs."

"Jesus," John muttered and sat down on the other bed. "Do I want to know the rest?"

"There's not much else to tell," Elizabeth said with a sympathetic smile. If she hadn't gone through it herself she never would have believed it. "Oh, except he faked my death, which only worked for a little while, and killed a man Lorenzo Alcazar, who we believe is working with Trevor, sent for me and the flash drive … and then burnt down his house to cover it up. Although I don't know what the fire department thought when they found whatever was left of the bodies."

"Meg'll handle it," Jason reassured her.

"Bodies?" John asked.

Elizabeth bit her lip. She'd said too much but it was too late to backtrack. "Yeah, there were two guys."

"And Jason killed both of them?"

"Not exactly," she admitted, twisting her fingers together nervously. So far she'd been able to push it out of her mind, but knew that eventually she would have to face it. With a fortifying breath she started to confess, but Jason spoke up first.

"As far as anyone is concerned, I killed them both."

A looked passed between the two men. "Understood," John agreed. "Who's Meg?"

"My neighbor and not part of this."

"Okay. Anyone else that isn't a part of this that I should know about?"

Jason scratched his cheek. "Cruz."

"Shit."

"He's a cop in Port Charles. I needed someone inside."

John mumbled something under his breath and Jason smiled so Elizabeth figured it was going to be all right.

"Fine. Nothing I can't handle," he said, though he suddenly looked very tired.

"And she'll need a birth certificate and social security number under this name," Jason said, producing a piece of paper seemingly from thin air and handing it over. "Off the books."

John slipped it into his pocket. "You don't ask for much do you?"

"I bet you get a nice promotion when your bosses see this," Jason replied and tossed the flash drive on the bed beside John.

"You've seen what's on it?"

"Yes," Elizabeth answered as Jason went to where he'd thrown his bag and returned with a laptop.

Jason passed the computer to his friend. "Have a look."

John went over to the table and booted up while Elizabeth took the opportunity to have a hushed conversation with Jason.

"What will Meg tell the fire marshal? The cops?"

"Whatever she has to," he answered. "Don't worry about it."

She rolled her eyes. Easy for him to say. She was new to all the cloak and dagger stuff.

"It's a small town where nothing ever happens. Nobody is going to ask too many questions."

"Even with two bodies –"

Jason cut her off as if he didn't want to talk about it. "Once the fire reached the kitchen there wouldn't have been much left."

"Gas stove," she said with dawning realization.

He nodded. "Meg's lived in Freedom her entire life. No one is going to challenge her. Not even the cops."

"Bonnie, Clyde, if you two are done whispering over there, I think I've seen enough." John snapped the laptop closed and then drummed his fingers on it. "I can tell you that your soon-to-be-ex-husband and father-in-law are looking at some serious charges."

"Really?" Her fondest wish at that point was to be safe from them for the rest of her days. She didn't care if it meant they were dead or just in a cage.

"In today's political climate they'll be lucky to see the light of day ever again."

"B-but Trevor is a senator." _Do not get your hopes up._

"Espionage, treason, unauthorized possession of military documents, conspiracy to commit murder, and that's just for starters," John said, ticking off Trevor's numerous crimes off on his fingers. "That he's a senator will just make things go harder on him."

"Ric?" Jason asked, growled actually and had Elizabeth glancing over at him.

"Same thing, maybe more depending on what you can tell us," John said speaking to her. "Thing is, this is bigger than me. You'll have to come to Langley and make a formal statement."

Jason visibly tensed so she knew that he was not comfortable with the stipulation, but she was willing to do just about anything if it meant her freedom. Hadn't she proved that time and time again lately?

"Will you be there?" she asked. It would be easier with a familiar face there. They would want details of her marriage, intimate details, and she had never told anyone – not even Sonny – the whole truth. There were some things that she never wanted to relive and by telling gave them life when all she wanted was them dead and buried.

"I will," John assured her as he stood. "A car will be sent for you first thing tomorrow morning."

"We'll drive ourselves," Jason interjected, also rising and putting a hand on her shoulder; a united front. They were a united front on at least this one count.

"There are security concerns to think about," John said.

"I don't trust a couple of suits to keep her safe."

John looked as if he wanted to argue but likely recognized it would be futile - once Jason made up his mind there was just no changing it – and proposed a compromise; two cars. An agent would drive her and Jason while a security detail followed in the other. Jason reluctantly agreed, especially since he would have to go in unarmed. Something that would be hard for him, but the CIA wasn't likely to let a contract killer roam the halls armed to the teeth.

"I'll just take this back with me," John held up the flash drive, "to let the computer geeks check it out."

Jason snatched it out of his hand. "You'll get it when you meet _her_ conditions. Not before."

Instead of showing signs of offense because his word was being called into question, John smiled. "You're in charge."

"No," Jason said, nodding in her direction. "She is."

* * *

Elizabeth was a very perplexing woman. One minute she was angry enough to throw a punch at him and the next concerned about his well-being. No one had been more surprised when she made her cooperation dependent upon exemption for his crimes.

It wasn't as if he had been worried about what would happen to him; he'd gotten out of tighter spots before, but she obviously had given it some thought. He was trying not to read anything into that. She was grateful. Nothing else to it.

Great.

Jason picked up another slice of the pizza they'd ordered and took a bite. Of course she was grateful, what else would she be? It wasn't like he expected anything from her. He'd helped her out of a bad situation and was happy – most of the time – to do it.

If he developed feelings for her then that was his problem. He'd just have to deal with it … along with all the other changes in his life.

Uninterested in food, he dropped the pizza back in the box and slumped back in his chair. He needed a beer but settled for a Pepsi from the vending machine outside because he wanted a clear head.

"Somethin' wrong?" Elizabeth asked and dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin.

He shook his head, not trusting himself not to say the wrong thing again.

"You trust John, right?"

"With my life."

"Good," she said around the bite she'd just taken.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?"

Elizabeth shrugged and swallowed. "I seem to be in a constant state of worry lately. But if you think _John_ is trustworthy then I have to believe you."

Jason knew exactly what she was getting at and instead of putting her off again, he pulled his new cell phone out and started punching in a number. It was time for them to put this to bed once and for all.

"I know you don't believe me about Sonny," he told her. "You think he's a friend so I don't blame you. I mean, who am I? You've known me a week."

"It's not about who I've known longer, or who I like better, or whatever," Elizabeth said and then quieted when he held up a finger.

"Hey, Max. Jason. I'm sitting here with Elizabeth; maybe you can help us both out and answer a couple of questions."

"_Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea."_

"Your boss's days are numbered, Max. You don't have to go the same way."

"Jason! Don't threaten him."

"_Mrs. Lansing really is there with you."_

Max sounded real antsy, as if torn between alerting his employer and genuine concern for a woman in trouble. Max was an honorable sort of guy – not like his boss – Jason knew which side would win.

"She doesn't like to be called that. Understandable I think."

"_What do you want, Jason? Sonny's pretty pissed with you. I could be shot just for talking to you."_

"You can tell Elizabeth what Sonny told Alcazar about her that almost got us both killed."

"_Why would Alcazar care about her?"_

"Don't play stupid with me, Max."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. _"He didn't have a choice. Not with the pressure Lorenzo was putting on him."_

There was always a choice, Jason thought, especially for a man who proclaimed to be honorable and insisted that threatening the lives of women and children was despicable. Apparently it was only despicable if it didn't benefit him.

"Tell that to Elizabeth," Jason said and tossed the phone on the lid of the open pizza box, right in front of her.

From the loathsome expression she wore he might as well have thrown a snake at her. He didn't think she would pick it up, but after a moment sighed and tossed a crust in the box before putting it to her ear.

"Hello, Max." She got up, turning her back on him, and paced away. "Yes, I'm fine … thanks to Jason."

As he could only hear one side of the conversation and she had effectively blocked the view of her expressive face, he could only guess what the guard was telling her by the inflection of her voice. It was how he knew when she learned the truth.

"I see," Elizabeth said, sounding mechanical, that tinny just had the wind knocked out of you sort of tone. "Thank you for being honest with me, Max. Yes, I will. Goodbye."

Perhaps he should have felt vindicated now that she learned the truth, but instead he felt like a monster. She was only holding on by a very thin thread. Why did he have to go and cut it on her?

_Because you're a jealous prick_, he reminded himself. Going into this he believed that Sonny was screwing her and even then he hadn't liked it but accepted it wasn't any of his business; except that it had become his business whether he liked it or not. He wanted her and someone else had her. He'd always been a prick but this was the first time he could remember being jealous over a woman.

It had worked to his advantage though. He used it to keep his distance, to keep her at a distance in hopes that those very conflicted but unrelenting feelings twisting his insides up would go away. They didn't, and he became an insensitive, jealous prick. _Way to win her over, Morgan_.

"Aren't you going to tell me 'I told you so?' I've got it coming." Elizabeth walked over and set the phone down on the table.

When he didn't say anything she shook her head and went to sit on her bed, about as far away from he could get in their small motel room. She sat ramrod straight, hands resting on her tightly clenched knees, and blank faced. It was her eyes that killed him.

There were no signs of tears only the newly discovered knowledge of betrayal. Having already suffered so much hurt it must have been like ripping the scab off an old wound, which tended to bleed like hell and take even longer to heal.

Uncertain, as he always seemed to be around her, Jason could only sit and watch as reality sank in. There was nothing he could say even if he had the words; she wouldn't want any comfort from him, not when he'd been the one to force the truth on her.

"I thought he wanted to help me," Elizabeth said in a small voice, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. "I _trusted_ him."

And that was the crux of the problem. She _had_ trusted Sonny and once again her trust had been violated.

Her pained blue eyes met his for a second and then she just seemed to crumble.

Without thinking or weighing the possible consequences, Jason crossed the space between them and took her into his arms. He did not tell her everything would be all right. Instead he silently offered all that he could; comfort, strength, understanding and hoped that it would be enough all the while wishing that he had more to give.

When she lifted her head he was surprised to find her dry eyed and even more taken aback when she didn't pull away.

"Why? Why would he do this to us? He asked you to help me. He promised that I wouldn't have to be scared anymore. I just don't understand."

Jason stroked her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder and breathed in the scent of green apples he now knew came from her shampoo. "I don't either," he said quietly. He would never understand how a man could purposely and maliciously hurt a woman.

"How do you stand this; not being able to trust anyone, just waiting for people to screw you over?"

Thinking of his family, he said, "It's the only life I know."

Her arm went around his back, a one armed hug that had his gut tightening – not with the desire that had become almost a constant companion since the night he'd met her, but in awe because even in her dark time she was still compassionate enough to offer comfort to him. In his world it was every man for himself.

"What a pair we make," she said it on a laugh that quickly turned to tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as her shoulders shook on suppressed sobs. "I just … I screw everything up. I thought if I married someone my parents loved that they would be proud … that they might love me too. I was so stupid. And now you're in the middle of the mess I made."

Elizabeth wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve and sniffled before lifting her head from his shoulder and moving away. "You should just go. Leave me here and get as far away from me as possible before I ruin your life too."

Jason shook his head, reached slid his hand across the bed for her hand and then withdrew it to run it over his face in irritation. Did she really think that he would walk away from her and leave her to fend for herself? "Not going to happen. I made you a promise and I'm going to keep it."

She sat quietly for a few long minutes and then stunned him by hugging him. Tearfully, she whispered into his ear, "I don't know why, but thank you."


	14. Chapter 14

Elizabeth woke up slowly and contentedly. It was one of those mornings where she wanted to pull the covers up over her head, snuggle deeper into bed and sleep for another hour or two. Her whole body loose and mind blissfully empty except for a dull headache, but that was what she got for crying until her throat was raw and eyes swollen shut. She should feel awful, but a whole lot had washed out with those tears. They were productive tears and it had felt good to let it all out – and not to have to do it alone either.

She lifted her arms over her head and stretched, fingertips to toes, and then yawned. Itching her chin with her shoulder, she rolled over and sleepily opened her eyes, not altogether sure she wanted to do anything other than go back to sleep. It was what she saw that had her jerking fully into awareness.

Beside her in bed, snoring softly was Jason.

It was a rather disconcerting thing to wake up to but not terribly alarming once she got over the initial shock and searched her sleep fogged memory for events of the previous night. She didn't know why but she just couldn't stay mad at him. For one thing he'd been right about Sonny and sulking for more than a day only made her seem childish, but it was hard to be angry with a guy who held you while you cried.

Maybe she was still stinging a little over the accusation that she'd been sleeping with Sonny, but under the circumstances was willing to let it go. She still didn't understand what had led Jason to believe it, but he was a guy and guys tended have sex on the brain.

She rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin on folded arms and watched him sleep for a few minutes. He could be such a sweetheart ... when he wasn't being a macho jerk, and that he'd stuck with her for this long was a definite check in his _Pro _column. It was only slightly outweighed by the big fat red check in the _Con_ column for being a hit man. But she liked him anyway.

Of course it didn't hurt that he was so easy on the eyes. You know, if you went for the leather clad bad boy type and didn't mind living out in the middle of nowhere. As for the first part, she didn't know where she stood but the second was no problem. It made her sad to think of Jason's cute little house in the woods though and that he had burned it down because of her.

Frowning, she studied his face and wondered how he could burn his home to the ground as if it were no big deal. He never acted as if he blamed her for it even though she was partially responsible. In his shoes, she did not know if she could be so gracious.

He had taken her into his home and shared with her what she had come to recognize as his sanctuary, and now it was just gone. It didn't seem fair. Because of everything Jason had done for her she was going to get a whole new life and he didn't even have someplace to go back to. It wasn't right.

She wished she could fix it somehow. For one wild second she entertained the idea of them riding off into the sunset together, but discarded it just as quickly. There was no way Jason would want to be saddled with her any longer than it took to see this thing through. Not that she blamed him, but it would have been nice to have him around.

Smiling a little sadly, she reached out and brushed the hair from his forehead. Unable to help herself, Elizabeth trailed her fingers down his temple to his scruffy jaw. He hadn't shaved in over two days and she knew from experience that the stubble would feel rough against her own smooth cheek. She's always thought she liked the clean-shaven look but was quickly changing her mind. In any case it suited the whole rebel thing Jason had going on.

Shaking her head because of the direction her thoughts had taken, she started to draw her hand away when she happened to look down and notice that two very beautiful blue eyes were watching her. Caught between embarrassment and curiosity at the look he was giving her, Elizabeth scrambled for something to say or do.

"Um, good morning," she said with a tremulous smile, able to feel the heat rising to her face, and then fled to the bathroom as fast as she could.

* * *

_The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please hang up and – _

"Damn it, Jason," Emily said after slamming down the phone and then looking around to make sure that no one had heard that. Maybe the nurse's hub was not the best place to try calling her brother.

Not that he was much of a brother, but she supposed that she still cared about him a little bit … even if he didn't give a damn about her or their family. If she didn't care, wasn't worried enough to go to the trouble of contacting him, then she would just forget her strange run in with Ric Lansing.

Why would the District Attorney be asking questions about her estranged sibling when Jason hadn't lived in Port Charles for years and years? Jason was in trouble that was why. Emily rolled her eyes. Big surprise there. That was what happened when you turned your back on your family and tradition and broke your mother's heart to become a criminal.

Part of her felt like he deserved whatever he got, but … he _was _her brother. To her that counted for something. But stymied by the inability to contact him she was at a loss as what to do. She'd tried his cell phone but his voice mail wouldn't even pick up and his home number was no longer in service.

Drumming her neatly trimmed nails on the desk, Emily debated her next plan of action. She could just let it go but that wasn't really her style. Once she had her mind set on something she saw it through no matter what obstacles stood in her way, and she was determined to find out why Ric was interested in Jason.

And if she couldn't ask Jason then she could do the next best thing, because if her brother was in trouble then it was a pretty sure bet that Luke Spencer was somehow involved. Annoyed with herself for not thinking of it sooner, Emily called information for Luke's blues club in Philadelphia.

It took several rings before anyone bothered to answer and she almost hung up when she recognized the voice as her childhood best friend and not his father.

"_Hello? Is anyone there? Lulu, if this is another one of your jokes_ …"

"Lucky, it's Emily."

"_Em? Wow! It's been awhile." _

"Too long," she agreed, smiling despite her anxiety. "How are you?"

"_I've been better. Dad's left me a real mess this time." _

Her stomach sank down around her knees. "Why? What happened?"

"_I wish I knew. Couple of nights ago I stopped by to see him and found the place wrecked and the old man beaten to a bloody pulp." _

"Oh my God! Is Luke okay?"

"_He's alive. In a coma, but alive." _

"That's awful. Was it a robbery?"

"_Not as far as anyone can tell but dad is the only one that would know for sure. Mom's a mess and Lulu is raising hell up at school so mom will either let her come home or she gets kicked out. I'm just trying to hold everything together." _

"I'm so sorry, Lucky." Emily felt terrible because she was about to add to his burden. "I actually called to talk to Luke about Jason."

"_What about him? I've been trying to get a hold of him for the past two days_."

"D-do you think Jason is somehow involved in what happened to your dad?"

"_If you're asking if I think Jason beat up my dad, no. No way. Jason is far too cool for that, but it wouldn't surprise me if he was connected. I know for a fact that dad was pissed at him about something." _

"Any idea what?"

"_With Luke anything is possible, but if I had to guess, I'd say something illegal." _

Emily rubbed at her temple and sighed. What a mess. "Thanks, Lucky, and I am sorry about Luke. Keep me updated, okay?"

They said their goodbyes and hung up, but she didn't feel any better. In fact talking to Lucky had only made her more determined to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

"Here's to you, dad," Ric said in toast to the portrait hanging over the mantle. "You bastard."

He drank deeply from the bottle of scotch having long dispensed with such niceties as drinking from a glass and unmindful of the alcohol that dripped down his chin and onto his wrinkled white shirt. When he was done he threw the bottle into unlit fireplace and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand.

His life was over.

In a pathetic bid for his father's approval he had ruined everything. If only Elizabeth had killed herself. Not only would it have saved the time and effort it was taking to track her down, but also he wouldn't have to put up with the speculation he saw in every person he met eyes. When they thought she'd committed suicide it was all sympathy and concern for the poor husband that had been left behind, but now, now that everyone knew that she had left him ….

He was a laughingstock. All over town people were talking about him, around the dinner table, on the golf course and even in his own fucking office.

Enraged, he smashed a vase from a nearby table – a wedding gift from someone or another his father knew. His own staff had turned on him, whispered conversations that stopped as soon as he entered the room and snickers behind their hands as soon as he left. The police coming into his home and treating him like a criminal. The mayor wouldn't even take his calls anymore. He could forget about the governor's seat.

It was all crashing down around him and once it came out that his wife had not only left him but also had done so with another man, he would never be able to show his face in public again. A man should be able to control his wife – even if she was a whore that didn't deserve the air she breathed. She was _his_ wife, wore his fucking ring on her finger, and she thought she could leave him.

Exhausted, Ric sank down onto the couch and ran a hand over his face. Maybe if he could just get some sleep he would be able to think more clearly. He reached for the bottle only to discover it wasn't on the table where he was sure he'd set it.

Cursing, he staggered over to the liquor cabinet and had to rifle through empties before finding a bottle of vodka. "Fucking maid," he said to himself when he realized the ice bucket was empty. As much as he paid the bitch she should be able to make sure he had ice. A man deserved a cold drink after a long day at the office.

Swilling from the bottle, Ric started back to the couch but only made it as far as the chair by the fireplace. Sprawled in the chair, the morning sun shining in through the window, he started to nod off but just when he was almost out, jerked back awake, mind racing.

They had to find her. If he could just find get the flash drive back his father wouldn't be so mad at him and things would get back to normal. His wife would have to pay for her unfaithfulness – his father wanted to kill her and he wasn't totally against it, as long as he saw to it that she suffered first.

Jason Morgan, Ric rolled the name around and around in his head until it felt seared in there. He hoped Morgan had enjoyed being with his wife because it was going to get him killed. He would kill him first, make her watch; make her beg for her lover's life. It wouldn't work but she was so beautiful when she cried.

Ric removed the snub-nosed revolver from his pocket and caressed it lovingly. If only he could have forced Emily to tell him about her brother they might already know where to find them.

"Rich bitch. Thinks she is better than everyone else because she's a Quartermaine and her family owns the whole damn town."

Given the chance he would show her exactly what he thought of her. The thought had a fine sweat breaking out on his forehead and his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He bet she would tell him whatever he wanted to know when he got through with her.

She wouldn't keep her mouth shut though, she would go crying to the cops and her parents, and because she was a Quartermaine he would wind up in jail. Wouldn't matter if she was asking for it, these days a man couldn't even show a woman where her rightful place was, and his father wouldn't like all the bad press.

He lifted the bottle to his lips but it was empty and he couldn't remember drinking it. Befuddled, he rubbed his eyes with the back of the hand that also held the gun and blindly set the bottle on the table but missed and it rolled onto the floor. Unaware or simply not caring, Ric didn't bother to pick it up; he laid his head back and closed his eyes. If he could just get a couple of hours of sleep then he would be all right.

As soon as the doorbell rang he was on his feet, heart in his throat, swinging the gun around. When it rang the second time he lowered the weapon and slowly went to the front door, using the walls for support as his socked feet slipped on the gleaming wood floors.

Perhaps he was dreaming or his thoughts had willed her into being, but Ric was heartened to find the possible solution to his problems standing on his doorstep. Slipping the gun back into his pocket Ric opened the door.

"Come in, Dr. Quartermaine. I was just thinking about you."

* * *

Jason was on edge. There was an itch between his shoulder blades that he always seemed to get right when it was all about to hit the fan. He had been too busy just lately listening to other more insistent part of his anatomy to pay attention to what his gut was telling him, but that had changed. He was focused. The stakes were too high for him not to be.

Going to Langley was unavoidable. So was, he supposed, the security John deemed necessary, but he felt like a sitting duck in the black SUV traveling up the interstate. It didn't help that he was unarmed and had to rely on their driver, a kid barely out of his teens by the looks of him, for safety.

It felt wrong.

Glancing over his shoulder, searching for the trail car, and finding it three cars back, Jason could not relax – not even when Elizabeth laid a cool hand on his arm. Truth be told, that only amped up the tension.

"Turn the heat up," he told the driver and managed a thin smile for Elizabeth as he put his much larger hand over hers. He didn't want her picking up on his nerves but after all their time together she seemed just as attuned to him as he was to her.

"I'm fine," she said quietly; shy with a stranger in the car with them. "Are you?"

Nodding, trying to ignore the burn of her touch and force the memory of waking up next to her out of his head, Jason turned to look out the window just as a black BMW zoomed up out of nowhere beside them. When he saw the same thing out Elizabeth's window he reacted on instinct, unhooked both of their seatbelts, disregarded her silent questions, and pushed her onto the floor.

The barrage of bullets started seconds after he rolled off the seat on top of her. They riddled the sides of the vehicle – thankfully armored – and cracked the shatterproof glass while Jason covered Elizabeth with his body, arms protectively over her head so that no part of her was exposed. She did not move, barely breathed, fingers digging into his chest.

Tires squealed and the SUV fishtailed as the driver tried to evade. Jason could hear him yelling into the radio for backup. There wouldn't be time for that.

"Stay down," he hissed into her ear when the shooting stopped and started to lever himself off her.

"Jason, don't," she said just as glass exploded, raining down on them and everything turned upside down.

The SUV rolled three times over an embankment before coming to rest in a field. The driver was dead and when Jason came to, he thought Elizabeth was too.

Slumped against the door like a forgotten ragdoll with blood running down the side of her face and staining her sweater, Jason was as scared as he had ever been. Crawling over broken glass and other debris, he had to calm his own racing heart as he pressed two fingers to her neck and found a pulse.

"Elizabeth. Come on, wake up."

Her eyes remained closed and her head lolled to the side. She was well and truly out. Gently he probed her skull with his fingers but didn't find anything but the gash on her temple. Head wounds always bled like a bitch no matter how small the wound. He had to believe that it was nothing; wouldn't let himself think any differently.

Knowing they had to get out of there in case of fire, Jason gritted his teeth through the pain of a dislocated shoulder and did what had to be done.

He was leaning over her prone body lying in the overgrown brown grass when the paramedics came sliding down the slope toward them.

* * *

"No, sir, I don't believe that is the case," John said, speaking into the cell phone that felt permanently attached to his ear as his boss continued to ream him out.

He wanted to tell the old goat to go to hell. They wouldn't be in this mess, bodies piling up and military secrets floating around, if the matter had been kept in house, as he had most stringently suggested. But he was the low man on the totem pole and his opinions didn't mean squat. He would take the resultant ass kicking because that was how things worked, but he was not about to go down without a fight.

"I am at the hospital now and will return with the package as soon as possible," he said, grimacing at having referred to two human beings as a 'package,' and stopping just outside the doors where cell phones were not allowed.

"No sir, there will be no further mistakes."

Ending the call and dropping the phone into the pocket of the trench coat he wore – just like every other bureaucrat from there to Maryland – John walked into the waiting room to smooth ruffled feathers and finish his goddamned job. He no more than took two steps when he was grabbed by the lapels and thrown up against the wall.

Gagging, airway cut off by a muscular forearm, John stared into the enraged face of his friend – most likely former friend now – and got ready to kiss his ass goodbye.

Jason had always been one mean sonofabitch when crossed.

"Do you know how close we came to dying out there," Jason asked in a feral growl.

"Can explain," John rasped, trying to pry Jason's arm away.

"What's to stop me from killing you right here?"

John could tell Jason was damn close to doing just that and did what he did best, went for humor. "Witnesses?"

Jason's nostrils flared. He didn't care who saw him. John's vision began to haze.

"She almost died," Jason yelled and abruptly released him.

Landing in a heap on the floor, John could only gasp as he drew in much needed oxygen and watched the other man pace the empty waiting room, his hands over his face.

_Shit, he's in love with her._ John recognized the look well enough. Saw it in the mirror every morning since he'd met and married Brenda. He was lucky that Jason hadn't snapped his neck on sight. That's what he would have done if it had Bren in there.

Massaging his throat, he climbed to his feet and kept his distance as he asked how Elizabeth was.

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. She was unconscious and bleeding when I dragged her out of the car." Jason glared, blaming him. "What the hell was that anyhow?"

"Lorenzo Alcazar."

Jason kicked a chair. "Fuck."

"That's what I said. Apparently _that _was his last ditch effort to grab the flash drive."

Jason rounded on him, blood in his eyes. "How did he know about the meeting?"

John's own ire started to rise. "We've got a leak. I'm not even sure where because the idiots in charge decided we had to bring the fucking FBI in on this. Your driver was one of them and they're putting his death on me because it's my operation. Never mind that it could just as easily be one of their own that told Alcazar, but the bastard isn't talking until he makes a deal."

"He's in custody?"

"Turn himself in, but they won't tell me where they are holding him so don't even ask. Not that I wouldn't like to kill the lousy sonofabitch myself, but we need him."

"Maybe you do."

"We both do," John said with a sad shake of the head. In a perfect world people like Lorenzo Alcazar would be in prison, on their way to the electric chair, but it was far from a perfect world and they actually worked with them. "He can give us everything on the Lansings; the what's, where's and how's. He's got recordings and pictures. Your girl can only tell us thoughts and impressions, not any concrete proof."

"What about all the times that asshole she's married to beat the hell out of her? Doesn't that matter?"

"It matters to me. I'm going to hold up my end of the bargain," John answered. "But the boys upstairs could care less about one woman. They only care about protecting national security and covering their own asses. It sucks but that's the way it is. He'll go away for this. That's all I can give her … other than the name of a good lawyer."

"And Alcazar?" Jason demanded. "Does he just get to walk?"

"There's nothing I can do."

Jason dragged a hand through his hair. "She knows too much for him to just let it go."

John nodded. He told his boss the exact same thing. "I've been authorized to offer Elizabeth protection, witness relocation and all that."

Jason looked like he wanted to hit something; John wisely stepped out of the way. "I'll ask her."

"Good. Look at it this way, Jason, at least she won't have to testify. All she has to do is hand over the flash drive, make a statement about what she _does_ know, and then she can disappear, start a new life or whatever it is you two have planned."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jason asked, gripping the front of John's shirt. "Do you think that I would take advantage of her, of the situation?"

"I've seen the way you look at her," he replied with the feeling that he had inadvertently stuck his foot in his mouth. "And who could blame you? She's seriously hot and you've always been into the wounded little birds."

"Fuck you."

Jason was just about to punch him in the face when the doors swung open and Elizabeth came in looking pale and a little banged up, but determined in the way she held her head up and walked with purpose.

She laid a hand lightly on Jason's shoulder and he tensed, giving the impression of being ready to rip him limb from limb if he so much as put a toe out of line.

"Please, Jason, I just want this over," she said, sounding tired and pleading with only her big blue eyes.

Whatever it was that Jason felt for her, she had some sort of hold on him because he let John go.

Counting his blessings, John watched as his old friend escorted Elizabeth to the other side of the room and held a quiet but intense conversation. Jason lifted a hand as if to touch the butterfly bandage at her temple but dropped it without making contact, curling his fingers into a fist at his side. Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and smiled.

"I'm okay, Jason. Promise."

John didn't hear Jason's response; he was speaking in a low and soothing tone that wasn't audible to anyone but the person to which it was directed. However, when the doctor entered and she moved away to speak with him, Jason followed her with his eyes and then hung his head, shaking it in self-depreciation.

Not just in love, John realized, but bleeding inside because he didn't know what to do about it.


	15. Chapter 15

When John handed over her new social security card and birth certificate it was if he'd given her the whole world. A new beginning was out there waiting for her. So what if she had to do it under a new name; she was doing it. She had gotten out.

She had won.

Ric and Trevor could rot in jail for the rest of their miserable lives. She didn't want to waste one more second thinking about them; fearing them. Not when there were so many more important things to think about, to experience, and nobody's timetable to do it in but the one she made herself. Was there ever a more thrilling or terrifying feeling than utter and complete freedom? Her stomach hurt just thinking about it.

There was a part of her that wanted to dance around, head thrown back in giddy laughter and arms open wide to embrace the future, but the other was in mourning. Not for the life she'd left behind and certainly not for Ric – never him – but because moving forward meant leaving Jason.

How could she leave the one person in her life that never let her down? He was her rock. He had given her the time and space to begin the healing process and start to remember who she really was.

He had risked everything for her. For her! Jason was the reason she was standing there with a pocket full of possibilities and he had gotten absolutely nothing out of the deal. He wouldn't even take the money back that he'd returned. Jason Morgan, the world's only honorable contract killer.

The wind whipped her hair across her face and when she flicked it away she took the opportunity to look at him. Standing beside her, staring out into the ocean, a frown furrowing his brow that she longed to smooth away, Jason already seemed a million miles away.

She'd expected for them to head straight for the plane and get the heck out of there but Jason surprised her by stopping at a little beach not too far from the army base. It wasn't exactly beach weather being cold and gray. Snow was in the forecast according to the radio and the part of her that wasn't freezing wished for a few flurries to fly while they were standing there. She bet it would be beautiful and she wanted something beautiful to hold onto, a memory of Jason that didn't involve death or blood.

The image of the man she had shot flashed before her eyes and caused the bile to rise to her throat. After several deep breaths of salty air she felt steady again. It would take a long time for that memory to go away – if it ever did.

"What are you thinking about?"

Elizabeth glanced over, startled by the question after he had been quiet for so long. Unlike in her previous life the question was not leading, there would be no wrong answer. Jason was just curious. He would understand.

"I keep thinking about those men that broke into your house. They're dead because of me."

Jason's frown grew even darker. "Better them than us."

"I keep telling myself that they were bad people, that I did what I had to do, but –"

He turned to her, peering intensely into her eyes so that she suddenly understood just how a butterfly felt when pinned. "If you hadn't come downstairs when you did I would be dead."

Shaking her head because she didn't want to entertain that particular thought, Elizabeth said, "But I still killed a man. I didn't know him. I'd never seen him before in my life and now I can't get his face out of my head."

Jason returned his gaze to the sea and sighed heavily. "I wish I could tell you that the memory will fade and that eventually you'll forget, but you won't. You always remember the first person you kill. I'm only sorry I couldn't keep you safe from that. If I'd done my job –"

Ineffectually slapping his arm, Elizabeth said, "Don't you dare blame yourself. If it wasn't for you I would be dead and buried by now. You saved me."

He shook his head. "You saved yourself."

She was about to disagree with him yet again when they were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Annoyed, she watched the sky for any sign of snowflakes and listened to the surf while Jason moved a few yards away to take the call.

* * *

"Give it up, Lansing. There's no walking away from this," Taggert shouted into the bullhorn. "Don't do something you are going to regret."

"It's no good," Cruz reported over the radio from his position in an attic window across the street. "I can't get a clear shot."

"Stand down," Taggert commanded and then cursed when a news van screeched to a stop just outside the barricade they'd hastily thrown up. "Damn it, someone get these people out of here."

Nosy neighbors, the curious and the morbid had all gathered to watch first hand as the man they'd elected district attorney lost his damn mind. The last thing anyone needed was for the standoff to make it onto the television, especially if things took a nasty turn.

"You don't understand," Ric yelled. "It's not my fault."

"Put down your weapon and talk to me," Taggert said wearily, having lost count how many times he'd said a variation of the same thing. The result was always the same, but it was his job to keep trying.

"Help me," Emily Quartermaine whimpered, Ric's arm around her waist keeping her in front of him, a human shield, and the gun pressed to her temple.

Feeling useless and ineffective, Taggert lifted the horn once more. "Come on, Ric, let the girl go so you and I can talk about this. Let me help you."

"You can't help me. No one can help me. Get me my father. Where's my father?"

The negotiator had to him to promise Ric that they would get him his father to keep him calm, but Taggert hadn't liked doing it. Trevor Lansing was not on his way down from D.C. to see his son. He was in jail; arrested trying to flee the country.

Taggert was running out of options and time. Ric was getting more agitated and unpredictable by the second and refusing to talk to anyone but his father. None of the snipers could get a clear shot without putting Miss Quartermaine at risk. And her family was already threatening to sue everyone in sight.

_Screw the negotiator._ From there on out Taggert was going to do what he thought best. If things went bad it was going to be on his head anyhow. "Your father isn't coming. He's been arrested."

"No! You're lying!" Ric stumbled back a step on the wide front porch of the Victorian house, pulling his hostage with him. His eyes were wild and the hand holding the gun shook unsteadily. "Bring me my father or I will put a bullet in her pretty little head. So help me I'll do it."

"You don't want to do that, Ric," Taggert responded calmly, though he felt anything but calm.

"Then bring me my fucking father," Ric screamed, the pale, handsome face that looked so good on the TV and in the papers turning a livid shade of red.

"I'm sorry but I can't do that. Your father was taken into custody by the FBI as he was trying to leave the country."

"Taggert, what are you doing?" Mac hissed and Taggert shrugged him off.

"No! You're lying!"

"Trevor isn't coming, Ric. He can't help you anymore."

The truth of the situation must have sunken in because Ric got real quiet and quit moving around. He stood there while Emily cried weakly, having long since given up struggling and was waiting to die.

"Cruz, get ready," Taggert said into the radio. "Something's about to go down."

"In place. Still no shot," came the crackling reply.

"Put down your weapon and release the hostage," Taggert demanded.

Later on it would seem to happen in slow motion but in reality it took only seconds. And in that time Taggert would wonder if there was anything he could have done. If there was something he should have done differently. Most of all he would spend the rest of his life hearing Emily Quartermaine's screams as her captor threw her to the ground and blew his own head off.

* * *

All she had to do was look at Jason's face to know something was very, very wrong. Instead of rushing to close the distance between them, demanding to know what was the matter; she stayed where she was and waited for him to come to her.

His expression was pained and he did not meet her eyes as he rejoined her. Elizabeth felt that familiar lead weight of fear settle in her stomach, but she could not force herself to ask. She didn't want to know. She wanted to hang onto the blissful ignorance she'd been enjoying.

Jason wiped the back of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do you know where you want to go?"

_With you_, was her first thought, but thinking of the atlas she'd studied for hours on end, she nodded. "I think so."

"We should get going then."

"Now?" She'd been right, it was bad news, and couldn't control the impulse to glance up and down the beach half expecting gunmen to come charging towards them guns blazing. But the beach was deserted except for them, though it did little to calm her nerves.

"Who was on the phone? What happened?" she asked, grabbing the sleeve of his leather coat in her gloved hand.

Jason turned his head away from her with all the effect of cutting her off at the knees. Horrible images of what could cause him to behave in such a way filled her head. The worst of which had nothing to do with faceless assassin and everything to do with what she feared most.

"Ric," she rasped, dropping her hand, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She wanted to run but her feet seemed glued to that spot.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise." His tortured expression did not penetrate the vacuum of terror in which she was stuck. "Ric's dead, Elizabeth. He killed himself rather than be taken into custody."

Staring at him as if he was speaking a language she'd never heard before, Elizabeth started to sit down on the cold, wet sand but Jason hooked an arm around her waist preventing it.

"Ric's dead?" she whispered to herself.

"I promised to kill him for you," Jason said gravely, "but the bastard beat me to it."

"He's not coming after me?" she asked, having trouble wrapping her brain around the entire concept.

"No, not ever again, but I need you to listen to me, Elizabeth. Alcazar has been released and nothing is going to stop him from coming after you. We have to get you out of here."

Elizabeth knew she should be scared, but she wasn't. Ric was dead. He would never be able to hurt her again. The ten ton weight she'd been dragging along for so long was suddenly gone. She'd been prepared to spend the rest of her life running, living under and alias and looking over her shoulder waiting for the day her luck ran out. The nightmare was over.

"Did you hear me?" Jason said, giving her a gentle shake.

Waking from her daze, Elizabeth extricated herself from Jason and a few feet towards the ocean, needing a few minutes to herself in order to process this new reality. She didn't know how long she stood there but when she turned to Jason he was still standing there, patient as ever, waiting for her.

"How did it happen? I need to know."

It didn't take long for Jason to fill her in on what he knew, but with every detail she learned, Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach. Ric had always been a coward. Of course he would rather face death than the humiliation of jail. It was the discovery that he had involved an innocent person in his last ditch effort to escape punishment that really upset her.

"Who was it – the hostage?"

Jason ducked his head and Elizabeth was sure that he wasn't going to tell her, but when he curled his hands into fists at his sides she knew that he wasn't withholding information but so angry he could not speak.

"Jason," she prodded softly after a moment.

"My sister," he growled. "He had my sister."

"Oh God, Jason. I'm so sorry." She wanted to reach out to him but was afraid that he wouldn't want her to. Why should he, she couldn't help but think, when it was all her fault. If he had never agreed to meet with her, to take the job of killing her husband, his sister never would have been in that position.

"You should go," she urged him, although it felt like cutting off a limb to do so. "I can get to where I'm going. You should go be with your sister."

He shook his head. "Emily's okay. Besides, no one wants me there, least of all her."

Elizabeth wanted to argue but as he had been so understanding when she'd explained that no matter how touched she was that her sisters would go to Port Charles to help with the search for her she had to put all of that behind her. They had never been close, didn't really know one another as sisters should and nothing would change that. She'd asked John to make sure that they understood she was safe and knew that would be enough for them all. They would hardly miss her and she could not claim to think of them overly much. It was sad, but it was the hand they'd been dealt.

"Are you sure?" she couldn't help but ask.

"There's nothing I can do for her," Jason admitted with a helpless shrug. "And I _am_ going to keep my other promise to you."

"My new life?"

Jason nodded. "Are you ready?"

"I don't know," she said on an anxious laugh and brushed away the hair the wind had sent dancing. "It's all happening so fast. I can't seem to keep up."

"You'll get through it. I have faith in you."

Eyes filling with tears because it was the first time that anyone had ever said that to her, much less meant it, Elizabeth said, "I don't know how I will ever thank you."

The smile Jason bestowed her with was tinged with sadness and she thought that maybe she would not be the only one that found it hard to let go having bonded the way they had in such a short but intense time together. He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear and then lingered, running his thumb over her cheekbone in such a way that made her breath catch almost painfully in her chest.

So distracted by the way he was staring into her eyes, Elizabeth did barely noticed when it started to snow. The delicate flakes clinging to their hair and tickling her face as he leaned in, his breath warm on her lips as her heart stuttered before running off at a gallop, and he laid his cheek against hers to whisper in her ear.

"Be happy, Elizabeth."


	16. Chapter 16

**Two years later:**

Some men had the patience to wait until the time was right, even if it came at a personal cost not to act when every instinct screamed to proceed straight away.

Jason Morgan was one of those men. His anger had not waned with time, only sharpened like the blade of an executioners axe. It was not for any selfish reasons that he waited, just the desire to protect the innocent … and make his prey sweat.

He deeply regretted that Ric Lansing had taken his own life and made him break his promise. Jason did not enjoy killing, but that one would have been a pleasure.

However his current objective was not nearly as gratifying, but a chore. There were offenses in his world that were unforgivable and he could not rest until all the loose ends were tied.

The door swung open drawing him from his reflection and letting enough light in to illuminate the space but could not penetrate the shadows in which Jason sat. When the door closed casting them into darkness, Jason reached over and flicked on a lamp. The time for games was at its end.

Sonny Corinthos backed up a step as the light blinded him for a second and then his eyes widened in fear.

"Don't bother yelling for help," Jason told him as he casually rose from the chair. "It won't come."

Sonny regained his balance and eyed the other man arrogantly. It was this conceit that had ultimately led to the confrontation. He believed that he was untouchable and it had made him careless. "You'll never make it out of here alive. What'll Elizabeth think of her hero then?"

That Sonny had the audacity to speak her name after what he had done pushed Jason right over the edge. He withdrew the gun from inside his jacket. "She defended you, you know. Didn't want to believe that you would betray her or her trust, but I know you better than that. I know exactly what kind of man you are."

Sonny lowered his eyes to the weapon aimed at his heart and then scornfully back up to Jason's face. "She'll never forgive you."

Jason nodded. He had considered that, but it wasn't going to stop him. "Then I'll have to live with that."

"It was only business," he said with a shrug, as if it meant nothing to him.

"So is this," Jason responded and then pulled the trigger.

* * *

"It looks like rain. Again. The weather guy on Channel Eight promised that it would be clear for the rest of the week," Angie Emerson sighed as she looked out the shop window, her flaming red hair standing in direct contrast to the dark gray sky.

"It's spring in Seattle, what did you expect?" Renee replied with a smile, nudging her co-worker out of the way to retrieve her purse and umbrella from under the counter.

"I've lived here my entire life and I can't stand the rain. I have no idea why anyone would want to live here."

"Some people actually like the rain."

"They should all be taken out and shot."

Rolling her eyes, Renee flipped the _Open_ sign over to _Closed_ and said, "You could always move somewhere nice and sunny."

"And leave all this," Angie said, gesturing to the bookstore her parents had owned since before she was born and she now ran. "How would I survive? Besides, you would miss me too much."

"Like a toothache," Renee teased and Angie stuck her tongue out in response. "See you tomorrow."

"Wait! I wanted to talk to you about something," Angie said as she came around the counter.

"Okay."

"I know this is kind of a sensitive subject and feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but do you remember Ben – he's a friend of my brother Ryan's? You met him at my parent's anniversary party last month."

"The blond with the glasses, right?"

"Yeah, that's Ben. He remembers you, too. In fact he asked Ry about you and if it's okay with you I thought I could give him your number." Angie smiled hopefully.

"No."

"Oh, come on, Renee! Ben is cute, totally harmless, and the perfect guy for you to jump back into the dating scene with. Besides, Ryan would totally kick his ass if he tried anything funny with you, proving that big brothers are good for something. So what do you say?"

"I'm not ready." She didn't know if she would ever be ready. It was something else for her to discuss with her therapist.

There was something about people who were blissfully in love that made the want to see all their friends lined up two by two. She wished Toby would quit fooling around and propose to Angie already. Planning a wedding would keep her too busy to play matchmaker.

"I know you've said your ex was a real asshole, but it's been two years and – and speaking as your friend, who only wants the best for you, you've got to get back on the horse," Angie said.

"It's not horses that I have a problem with," Renee said with a smile and wiggled her fingers in departure.

Though other people looked up at the sky with the same foreboding as Angie as they rushed to their destinations, Renee paid the weather little mind and strolled down the sidewalk with a half smile on her face. Pausing at the end of the street until the light changed, Renee removed the nametag pinned to the butter yellow cardigan she wore over a plain white t-shirt and stowed it in her purse.

Exhaling as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she crossed the street, keeping to a natural pace, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Come to find out, she was a pretty good actress. No one knew that she was really Elizabeth Webber – she never thought of herself as Elizabeth Lansing anymore – and it was safer that way.

Trevor was still in jail and Ric was dead and buried, but Lorenzo Alcazar was still out there somewhere and that was reason enough for her to be careful. It was the reason she kept pepper spray in her purse and a gun in her bedside table. A suitcase stood at the ready in the hall closet in case she had to make a run for it, but she prayed that she would never have to use it. She liked her new life and leaving it behind was not a pleasant thought.

So much had changed for her. No longer was she the sheltered but unwanted younger daughter of two doctors or the picture perfect wife of a politician, hiding the horrors of their home life with a false smile and scripted lies.

She supposed that she was still a liar but now it was for all the right reasons – her own. Every day was a gift, full of possibilities and new adventures. She had a cute little rental house, a job that she enjoyed and a small group of friends that liked her for who she was – or at least who they thought she was. The only dark shadow on the whole thing was the absence of the one person she wanted to share it.

Jason had hung around for almost two months while she settled in, teaching her how to protect herself and drilling the realities of her new existence into her head. When he had finally announced it was time for him to go it had taken everything she had not to beg him to stay. It hadn't helped that he'd seemed so reluctant to leave, worried about what might happen to her once he wasn't there to protect her.

Two years later she was very happy to report that she had not let him down and was still in one piece. Not that he had called to check on her, Elizabeth thought glumly. The day she'd said goodbye to him at the airport, hiding the tears that wanted to spill over and the near paralyzing panic that kept her feet rooted to the floor, had been the last she had seen or heard from him.

He was probably glad to be rid of her. And why shouldn't he? Poor guy had walked into a dive bar one night as a favor to a friend and ended up in an ocean of trouble. In his shoes she wouldn't want to see her ever again either. No one needed that kind of complication in their life

Jason was probably home in Maine, rebuilding his house and making furniture, alone – just how he liked it. She wished that she had thought to ask him when she had the chance how he did it. Nobody had told her that being free meant being so very alone.

She felt ungrateful sometimes because she had everything she never let herself hope to have and it still wasn't enough. None of the things she bought, the friends she made, or the time that passed could compare to the time she had spent with Jason in that little house in the woods.

Now that her body had healed, scars had faded, and she had the benefit of the perspective a clear mind and heart could bring she saw how fortunate she was to have Jason come into her life when she needed him most. Fear and desperation had pushed to the breaking point and at her most fragile moment, where she tittered on the edge of the brink between living and dying, she'd found comfort in the most unlikely of sources, a hit man.

Even now, Elizabeth could hardly believe that she had survived with impossible odds stacked against her. It was all owed to Jason. Somehow he got her through it, navigated uncharted waters, fought off any and all that wanted to do her harm – was there any wonder that she would fall in love with such a man?

It took her a long time to realize that she loved him, not until long after he left and all she had left were memories. She hadn't even guessed that day on the beach when for one breathless, shimmering second she thought he was going to kiss her or later when she recognized that she wanted him to that she felt something towards him other than friendship or appreciation.

The knowledge scared her, but then _everything_ scared her and at first she tried to explain it away as hero-worship or a reaction to everything they had been through together. But months past, turned into a year and then two and her feelings hadn't changed, only grown more intense. For the first time in her life Elizabeth was in love, but it was a futile kind of love because the man she had unwittingly given her heart to was unaware of what he possessed and she could not tell him.

So she walked around, a smile on her face and a hole in her chest, trying her best to keep her promises to him and be happy. Most of the time it was easy because she did have so much to be happy about, but others, when she was feeling really blue, it was hard not to yearn for something else, something more, a life that included him.

Elizabeth trudged up the steps of her little Craftsman style bungalow, a light burning in the front window so she didn't come home to darkness and shadows where anything could be waiting to reach out and grab her. Once she was inside and locked the door, after checking it twice to make sure it was secure, she went into the living room and found him sitting in her favorite chair, smiling and waiting.

"Welcome home, Elizabeth. It's been a while."


	17. Chapter 17

Elizabeth ran to the front door and wrenched it open but a hulking man in a suit barred her escape. Recoiling and ramming into the table behind her she fell to her knees and knocked her purse to the floor, scattering the contents, including the canister of pepper spray. Snatching it up she aimed it at the man but he deftly relieved it from her shaking hands and hauled up by the back of her shirt.

She fought, dug in her heels and screamed at the top of her lungs, but nothing prevented him from dragging her back into the living room to his boss. Lorenzo Alcazar still sat, untroubled, in her favorite chair. With a single nod from him the goon released her and dropped the pepper spray on the coffee table.

Disheveled and trying to catch her breath, Elizabeth realized how careless she'd become. So distracted by things she could not change, she'd walked right into an ambush.

Jason would be so disappointed.

Now, unarmed, she had to face down the very man she had spent the past two years hiding from. She was dead and only had her own stupid self to blame for it.

Lorenzo Alcazar remained seated and smiled warmly as a host would when welcoming an expected guest. "Relax. I only want to talk to you."

Yeah right. "How did you get in here?" she asked, annoyed that her voice shook just as much as her knees were.

She looked towards the control panel for the security system, ashamed to say that she'd been so distracted that she never checked it when she came into the house. Careless.

"That alarm is perfectly suitable for run of the mill thieves," Lorenzo said, noticing the direction of her gaze, "but I'm afraid it's not much of a challenge for my men."

Elizabeth wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face, but instead, she stood frozen in place incapable of doing anything to defend herself. Powerless again and since she had long since promised herself to never let anyone push her around again, that really ticked her off.

"I must say you are a hard woman to track down. If it wasn't for an associate spotting you in Tacoma I doubt I would have found you. My compliments to Mr. Morgan."

Elizabeth had gone shopping with Angie in Tacoma just last week. Bought a new sweater and had a nice lunch a restaurant she couldn't recall the name of at the moment. It was a fun day and it was going to cost her everything.

"Is he not here?" Lorenzo asked, merely looking curious.

Shaking her head, not in denial but to clear the buzzing in her ears, Elizabeth inanely asked, "What do you want?"

If he was going to kill her she wished he would just get it over with. After all there was nothing she could do to stop him. There was no one to leap to her rescue this time and she would not beg – not ever again.

"Straight to the point, I like that," Lorenzo said as he rose.

She expected him to produce a gun or some other weapon but his hands remained empty. He was the boss. The boss didn't get his hands dirty. He would get one of his goons to do it she decided and disliked him all the more for it.

"You see, Elizabeth, you did me a favor by neutralizing Trevor Lansing and freeing me from his service. I owe you for that and I am a man that always pays his debts." He withdrew a silver cigarette case from his jacket and produced a slim cigar. "Do you care if I smoke?"

"Yes." It seemed a petty thing to argue when there were so many more important things to worry about, but the answer was automatic and it pleased her to stand up to him even on such a silly thing.

"Very well," he replied and replaced the cigar and case back in his pocket, seemingly amused with her once more and that irked her. She was not some little toy for his entertainment. But being as he hadn't made any attempt to attack her, Elizabeth kept her temper in check.

"You have yourself a nice little life here and I want to assure that I have no interest in disrupting it – provided that you have no further evidence of my involvement with your father-in-law."

"All I had was the flash drive," she told him suspiciously. What did he think she had on him? She barely knew him.

Lorenzo smiled warmly. "Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"You sent men to kill me. Twice."

"And yet here you stand, alive." He sighed. "I acted on Trevor's orders and lost some good men because of his desperation and sloppiness. You never should have come into possession of that information, but perhaps it worked out the best for both of us."

Elizabeth didn't understand what was going on. It appeared as if he wasn't going to hurt her, although he could just be trying to lull her into a false sense of security. Maybe he enjoyed playing games with his victims – most psychopaths did. She should know she'd been married to one.

"Just so we're clear, you came here to tell me … what exactly?"

He held his hands out, palms up as if presenting her with a gift. "As I said before, I owe you and so, you get to live."

* * *

"I see you made it back from your trip alive."

Jason grunted in response to his neighbors observation and kept on varnishing the table he was working on for a past due order.

Meg crossed her arms stubbornly over her ample chest and leaned against a workbench across from him. "How's Elizabeth?"

Glaring at her over his shoulder for a second before returning to the chore, he wished he had never gotten drunk that one time and spilled his guts about Elizabeth. "How do you know I went to see her?"

"Well for starters, I'm not stupid. You disappear every month or so and come back in an even worse mood than the one you left. Nothing messes with a man's head more than a woman."

She had that right, Jason thought. Nothing made much sense since he let Elizabeth go. It was the right thing to do but that did not make the loss hurt any less.

"Did you at least talk to her this time or do you just hide in the bushes and spy on her?" Meg persisted, though she had likened getting information from him to squeezing blood from a rock more than once.

"She's better off without me in her life." He'd reminded himself of that enough over the years that he might as well have it tattooed on his arm – a personal credo.

Meg sighed in exasperation. "You know some people might construe that as stalking."

Jason grunted. The thought had crossed his mind but he had to see for himself that she was all right for his own sanity. As long as _she_ didn't see him there wouldn't be a problem.

"But I know you're just worried about her," Meg said with a sympathetic sort of smile. "That's what happens when you love someone: you worry. It doesn't even have to be rational. Your imagination can run wild thinking of all the bad stuff that could happen, especially when you are apart."

Dropping the brush on the workbench, Jason rounded on his friend having had enough. "I never said I loved her."

Meg smiled. "You didn't have to."

Jason threw himself back into his work after Meg left, but everything he touched turned to crap. He turned the chop saw off, giving up before he lost a finger, and started sanding another project by hand. Manual labor always helped to clear his head and he wasn't likely to screw anything up that way.

He didn't know what was going on with Meg; she'd never shown any interest in his love life before. All she did anymore was nag him about Elizabeth, about how the new house was too big for one man, and how he wasn't getting any younger and needed to settle down.

Well he didn't like feeling boxed in so the house was not too big – even though he sometimes wondered what he'd been thinking insisting on four bedrooms – and he was damned lucky to make it to thirty-two and felt grateful for it most days. Meg needed to mind her own business. She still had two unmarried sons to harass; she could leave him out of it.

She was right about somethin' though, he had often tortured himself with thoughts of all the accidents that could befall Elizabeth. Normal, everyday sorts of incidents that could leave her seriously hurt or dead, because despite everything else, Alcazar was not her most immediate threat – he would have to find her first. Elizabeth was a trouble magnet, which explained how she'd hooked up with him, but who knew what kind of shit she could get herself into without even trying.

Throwing down the sandpaper in frustration, Jason crossed to the mini-fridge and pulled out a beer. He would drive himself insane if he continued down that road. Car accidents, slipping in the shower, getting mugged; he'd imagined all of that and more. It seemed as if he had turned worrying about Elizabeth into a career.

"What?" he barked into his cell phone when it rang.

"_Uh, Jason, is this a bad time?" _

Dragging a hand through his hair and trying to remember how to be human, he said, "No. What's going on?"

"_I'm about a mile from your place. You going to start shooting at me if I show up?"_

"I haven't gotten that bad." Yet, he added mentally. Some day he would turn into one of those bitter old men that shot at anyone that dared to trespass on his land because he'd chased off everyone he cared about and only had his privacy left. Pathetic. "See you in a minute."

He tossed the phone on the workbench, grabbed back up his beer and went out to meet his friend. It had to be important for him to come all the way to Maine. That or John had come to arrest him.

Since they were friends Jason wouldn't put up much of a fight, but he finished his beer on the way up just in case it was his last.

"You're a long way from Langley, aren't you?" Jason asked as John got out of the rental sedan.

John O'Brien did not smile as he looked at him from behind darkly tinted sunglasses. "I've been in Port Charles. It appears someone murdered Sonny Corinthos."

"I'd say it was a shame but …," Jason trailed off with a shrug. "Come on back and have a beer."

"Don't mind if I do," John replied and fell into step with him. "Cruz is working with the fibbies on the case. Apparently his work on Elizabeth's disappearance impressed the right people. Course, he's not too happy that this one will probably go cold."

"That so?" Jason tried not to smile.

"Some guy named Max Giambetti took over the reigns. Know him?"

"Vaguely."

John snorted and followed him into the workshop, looking around as if he'd never seen a power tool in his life.

"You gotta get out from behind that desk more often," Jason teased as he passed him a cold bottle.

John took the beer and removed his shades, tucking them in his breast pocket. "Your girl's in trouble."

Annoyed, Jason twisted off the cap with more force than necessary and threw it across the room before downing half of it. "Tell me."

"She got a little visit from Alcazar two days ago."

Blood froze in his veins. "And I'm just now finding out? I thought you had guys following him."

"I do and I told you I've been in Port Charles. The report was faxed to me this morning and I jumped on the first flight I could get on so I could tell you in person. Thinking about shooting the messenger?"

Jason's lips twitched, almost amused. "Could be. Depends on what else you know?"

John sighed. "Not much. He hasn't been actively looking for as far as I can tell. I really don't know what led him to her now considering Ella Metcalf crossed the border just a few days after I passed over the papers and hasn't reentered the country. I'm sure you can figure out why it took so long for my men to figure out that Renee Prescott is really Elizabeth, a.k.a Ella."

Jason let the dig slide right off his back; he had bigger things to worry about. He'd screwed up again. "I was in Seattle a day or so before Alcazar showed. I may have led him right to her."

John shrugged. There was no way for them to determine how Elizabeth was located. "The question is, what are you going to do now … and how far am I going to get dragged into it?"


	18. Chapter 18

Elizabeth hummed tunelessly as she shelved the latest shipment; trying not to read too many of the covers otherwise she would end up spending yet another paycheck on books. Some women had a weakness for expensive shoes or handbags hers was books. They had always been her escape and at the moment she could use one.

Alcazar's strange visit was still very much on her mind and she couldn't help but wonder if she was making a mistake.

Call her crazy, but she believed him when he said he wasn't going to kill her. He had the perfect opportunity and failed to take it. Although why he felt the need to break into her house just to tell her that didn't make much sense.

Using a stepladder to reach the higher shelves, Elizabeth continued to speculate on the motivation of a man she didn't know and therefore could not begin to understand.

The bell over the door chimed and she shoved the last of the books into place as fast as she could. "Be with you in a moment," she called over her shoulder.

Carefully climbing down, Elizabeth adjusted her skirt and made sure she remembered to pin on her name tag before going to the front of the shop to help their customer. The friendly smile she wore turned to an O of astonishment when she saw him.

"Jason," she breathed, unable to believe her eyes, and having to brace a hand on the shelf beside her for support. For two years she had imagined this moment a hundred different ways, but now that it was a reality she was at a loss. All she could do was stare.

"Hey," he said gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Finding her voice, Elizabeth asked, "What … what are you doing here?"

Jason looked around the empty bookstore and then back to her. "Can you take a break or something?"

Answering a question with a question, how typically Jason. Elizabeth nodded and then unsteadily turned just as Angie poked her head out of the stockroom.

"Excuse me," the red-head said with a polite smile to Jason. "Renee, do you know if Mrs. Meyer's order came in?"

"Um," Elizabeth said and chewed on her bottom lip. That was something she _should_ know, but her brain was fried. She was lucky smoke wasn't coming out of her ears. "No, I don't."

"That's okay, I'll look it up on the computer," Angie replied and smiled, but it was a quizzical smile, as was the look she gave Jason. "Is everything all right out here?"

"I need to take my break now," Elizabeth responded and without a backwards glance at Jason, shoved through the swinging doors, forcing Angie to back up.

"Do you know that guy?"

"Yes." Elizabeth grabbed her jacket from her locker and shut the door with a clang.

Angie was standing on her tip-toes, peering out the miniscule window in the door and Elizabeth knew exactly what she saw, a guy with dark blond hair curling at the collar of his leather jacket, a couple days worth of scruff darkening his jaw and a scowl twisting his lips that did little to detract from his good looks. As nice as the outward package was Elizabeth new the inside to be even more attractive.

"That isn't your ex is it?"

"No." Elizabeth couldn't help but chuckle. "That is definitely not my ex-husband." As if she would ever want to get away from Jason. "I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Angie whirled around, arms shooting out to block the doors. "Who is he?"

"A friend."

With another peek, Angie shook her head as if she couldn't believe he was there either. "You should take the rest of the day off."

"Why?"

"Because if I had a _friend_ that looked like that I would want more than twenty minutes."

"It's not like that," Elizabeth protested, knowing exactly what her friend was thinking. "Jason is just a friend."

"Uh-huh." Angie grinned impishly. "You can forget I ever mentioned Ben. There is no way he could compete with Mr. Dangerous out there."

"There is no competition."

"No kidding. Poor Ben never stood a chance." She glanced over her shoulder. "God! Am I drooling? I must be drooling."

"Angie –"

"You should go." Suddenly Elizabeth found herself being pushed towards the door. "Don't want to keep a man like that waiting for too long."

"But –"

"Take the rest of the day off; I mean it." Angie shoved her through the doors. "And don't do anything I wouldn't do," she whispered.

Red faced and sputtering, Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation and left with Jason. She got into the rental car idling at the curb and shook her head. Angie practically had her nose pressed to the display window watching them. She was sure to have a million and one questions after Jason's sudden and mysterious appearance and Elizabeth had no idea how she was going to explain him.

Angie wasn't buying the 'just friends' excuse and Elizabeth began to wonder if her feelings were that transparent. Had her co-worker been able to see how much she cared for Jason? And if she could, could he?

Was that why he stayed away for so long; he didn't return those feelings and didn't want to hurt her?

Jason was the kind of guy who would do just that. He was considerate – most of the time – and he didn't like hurting people – except the one's he was hired to kill and she didn't believe he got any enjoyment out of that. He would cut off all contact if he thought it was for the best.

Saddened by the idea, Elizabeth didn't notice that he drove straight to her house until he parked behind her secondhand Volvo wagon, the back bumper rusting from age. The boxy car was an ugly shade of brown and she avoided driving as much as possible, but it was reliable and sturdy, which was why Jason had picked it out for her in the first place.

Blinking in surprise when her door was opened she looked up at Jason and sighed regretfully. The only reason he could be there was because he knew about Alcazar. He wasn't there for her but because she was in trouble yet again.

With a sigh she got out of the car and went into the house.

"How'd you find out?" Elizabeth asked, hanging her coat in the closet.

"John's had guys following Alcazar," Jason replied as he stood in the archway leading to the living room with hands on hips. "What happened to the chair that was there?"

Leave it to him to notice that straight off, she thought with another sigh. He'd been with her the day she bought it, helped her bring it home and find the right spot for it, and given her the perfect reading lamp to go with it. Of course he would note it was gone.

"I got rid of it."

"Why? It was your favorite."

Cheeks pinkening, she shrugged. "It had cooties."

His lips twitched with mirth. "Cooties?"

"Are you laughing at me?" Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips and glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"Yeah."

Most people would have the good grace to deny it or at least look guilty, but not Jason. Fighting a smile of her own because she really had missed him, she said, "_He _sat there. I couldn't walk in here and see that chair without thinking about him."

Lifting a shoulder as if to say 'who cares,' Elizabeth switched gears and asked, "Do you want something to drink? I don't have any beer, but I made a pitcher of lemonade just last night."

Jason caught her arm as she made for the kitchen, setting off unexpected sparks that left her struck dumb. He released her immediately, as if he felt it too. How had she missed it before? All that time alone and never the slightest inkling of attraction. In her defense she'd never been very bright when it came to men and she had been under a great deal of stress, but was she blind as well as stupid.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked voice gruff.

"I didn't want to bother you."

He stared at her, bewildered, and then paced away from her, into the living room, running a hand over his face, a sure sign of frustration. "And what, you thought you'd take on Alcazar by yourself?"

"He said I wasn't in any danger from him, that he wasn't going to kill me." The words sounded lame even to her ears making her wince.

"Do you really believe that he went to all the trouble of finding you to tell you that? He was putting you on notice that he can get to you any time he wants."

That was what she'd been afraid of and even more afraid to admit to herself. "But I can't do anything to him."

"You know who he is and what he does, that's reason enough to eliminate you."

"Then why didn't he do it?"

"Doesn't matter." Jason reached into his coat and withdrew a bundle of papers held together by a rubber band which he pressed into her hands on his way out of the room. She didn't even ask where he was going.

New papers, she discovered, flipping through the documents: three passports with matching driver's licenses and credit cards under three different aliases. It was strange to see her image staring back at her so many times under so many different names. Jason returned with her emergency suitcase from the hall closet and her coat over his arm.

"We've got to get you out of here. Now." He held out his free hand for hers.

Elizabeth gazed at it for a few long seconds, torn. He was offering to protect her once again, and at his own personal risk. She knew that he would do everything in his power to see that she was safe, but even after all that time she still could not fully comprehend why he would do it. Obligation? Pity? The need to play white knight to her damsel in distress?

She wanted no part of any of that. While there was a part of her that felt that she owed him her cooperation and a bigger part still that wanted to go along with him because she loved him, she couldn't do it.

Instead of placing her hand in his as she had so many times before, Elizabeth laid the papers in the open palm. "No. I'm sorry, but I can't leave."

Putting her back to him because she could not believe she had turned down any sort of request from him she missed the hurt that flashed across his face and the way he reached out for her and then dropped his hand, a hairsbreadth from her shoulder.

"Why?" he asked softly. "What could possibly be more important than your life?"

"That's precisely why I can't leave, my life is here." Maybe she was being foolish but she was tired of running, of constantly looking over her shoulder and living in fear, of being alone. It wasn't living. It was no different from living under Ric's thumb. "Everything I dreamed of and we fought for is here. And I'm doing good. I have a job and friends and until a few days ago, I felt safe."

"If you stay you are going to die."

"Because Alcazar knows where to find me? He knows where to find you, too, Jason. Or is it okay for you to put yourself in danger because you're a man and I'm some defenseless woman? That's not only sexist and hypocritical, but I expect better from you."

"Maine is my home; the only one I've ever had and I won't be driven away by anyone."

Elizabeth smiled, understanding shimmering in her eyes. "I want that, too, Jason. I want a home, somewhere I belong, and Seattle has the potential to become that for me. Unless … unless you are inviting me to come back to Maine with you, to share your home."

Where she got the nerve to say that she would never know and when he stood there staring at her in that peculiar searching sort of way he had, she wanted to snatch the words out of the air as they hung there between them, the elephant in the room.

"Would you – would you come with me if I was?"

Hope swelled inside her, overwhelmingly so. "Yes," she barely managed to whisper.

Jason shook his head clearly in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

Because she vowed to go after what she wanted, swallowing any fear and leaping off that metaphorical cliff, Elizabeth took a deep breath and leapt, eyes wide open. "To be with you."

To say Jason looked stunned would be an understatement. She supposed she could have hit him over the head with a baseball bat and he would have had that same expression. Shrugging as if to say she couldn't help it, Elizabeth waited for him to say something, anything.

Her heart broke when he finally did.

"I shouldn't have come here."

Swallowing past the emotion that threatened to choke her, she asked, "Then why did you? I'm not your responsibility. Never called and asked for your help. I haven't seen or spoken to you in years."

"For your own good," Jason bit off. "I stayed away for you."

"Well, that's stupid."

"I'm not good for you. You saw what my life is like and I won't put you through that. You deserve to be happy and live like a normal person. My life is not normal and it never will be."

"And if I disagree? If I think that you are exactly what I need in my life, then what? Did you think that I would forget about you if you stayed away? I hate to break it to you, Jason, but I got pretty attached to you during the time we spent together. Just because you weren't here didn't mean that I didn't miss you every single day."

Elizabeth felt as if she was pleading for her life, and maybe she was. Maybe this was her one and only chance to tell him what was in her heart, for better or worse. At least she would know and wouldn't spend the rest of her life – however that might be – wondering.

"Jason, I –"

"Sonny's dead."

Head reeling from the sudden revelation, Elizabeth struggled to find her tongue. "Wh-what?"

Jason scratched the side of his nose. His eyes were hard, colder than she had ever seen them when he looked at her. "I killed him."

It took scant seconds for her to process that information. It was what Jason did, he killed people, and Sonny had betrayed him. She didn't know what to say but felt that some response was necessary since Jason appeared to be waiting for some sort of reaction, perhaps for her to run screaming into the unusually sunny afternoon.

"Do you feel better?"

Jason chuckled or at least that was how she interpreted his sharp exhalation of breath. It wasn't something she actively tried to do, but Elizabeth did enjoy surprising him. He thought he knew how she would or should react and was always genuinely shocked when she did the opposite.

"He said you would never forgive me."

Sonny was an idiot, betraying Jason proved that, but he was beside the point at the moment. Elizabeth stepped up to Jason and cupped his cheek in her hand, forcing him to look at her. "Do you need my forgiveness?"

His hand closed over hers and she thought that he was going to push her away; instead he held it there, closing his eyes. In that moment Elizabeth knew without a doubt that she had been right; she was in love with him. It wasn't hero-worship or gratitude or anything similar. He was inside her, giving her strength and the will to go on when she would have given up otherwise. He was the person she wanted to be with because without him freedom, the thing she had wanted most, meant nothing.

When he opened his eyes and met hers, she started to tremble inside and out with what she saw reflected there. "Yes," he said softly.

"Then you have it," she replied just before his lips met hers.

Reckless abandon consumed her, erasing every practical thought from her head. There were things that needed to be said, matters to be settled, but none of that seemed important. All that mattered was Jason; there, kissing her. Everything else could wait.

It was with great reluctance that he broke their kiss, but Jason was smart enough to know that if he didn't things would quickly get out of hand and they weren't ready for that yet.

Resting his forehead against hers to catch his breath and because he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. Just one more second, he promised himself and then he would do what had to be done.

He should have known that Sonny would only be the beginning. Retirement wasn't possible. Not until Elizabeth was safe could he free himself from the violence of the life he had chosen. There would be no peace for anyone until all the players were taken out.

Loath to depart Elizabeth's warm embrace, but aware that time was not on their side (Was it ever?); Jason began to mentally distance himself from her and everything she offered. "I have to go."

"What? No," she protested, holding onto him that much tighter. "We haven't decided anything yet."

He drew her mouth to his again. The first kiss was hard, with the razor sharp edge of longing. The second frustrated. And the last soft, sweet, pouring as much of himself into it as possible because he recognized that it might very well be the last time.


	19. Chapter 19

**Georgetown, Washington D.C.: **

Sirens pierced the otherwise peaceful night in the upscale neighborhood and had the curious peering out windows and the cautious checking their locks. Staggering down a dark side street on rubbery legs, fleeing the scene of a triple homicide, Jason shivered in his leather jacket though it was a warm night.

He kept a hand pressed to the searing heat in his side where the blood had already seeped through his shirt. It felt as if someone had shoved a red hot poker just under his ribs. Exhausted by the effort it took to put one foot in front of the other and with the knowledge that he was going into shock, made himself keep going.

He didn't know how bad he was shot, but he was still mobile and for the moment alert. However his plan of a quick and easy getaway was screwed and he wasn't likely to find much of a hiding place in the area. As angry with himself as he was for letting this happen, the one thing that really bothered him was that he was going to die without ever having seen Elizabeth again.

Leaning against the back of a building, nauseous, needing a moment to rest, eyes growing heavier as he struggled to maintain consciousness, Jason finally gave up the fight and sank to his knees and plunged into the darkness.

That was precisely where John found him fifteen minutes later, slumped against the brick wall halfway hidden behind a dumpster that smelled like last weeks takeout and completely out of it. Cursing, John managed to wrestle his old friend into the mini-van and figured his wife was going to skin him alive when she saw the interior of her new car stained with blood.

"The things I do for friends," he said to no one in particular and started out of the city to a doctor he knew would help them.

"Hey, hey, where do you think you're going?" John said when he found Jason trying to get off the examination table where he was supposed to be sleeping.

"I need to …." The room spun causing him to forget what it was he was supposed to be doing. It was important; he could feel it.

John grabbed him before he could fall flat on his face and helped him lay back down. "You aren't going anywhere just yet, my friend. In case it's missed your notice, you were shot. It was a through and through, and nothing major was hit, but you lost a lot of blood."

Feeling fuzzy, Jason wiped a hand over his face and tried to stay awake long enough to find out what was going on. "Where?" he asked and took the cup of water John offered when he started coughing.

"Let's just say you might start having some strange cravings for Milkbones."

A veterinarian. It would explain the picture of a basket of kittens on the wall, but Jason didn't care. A doctor was a doctor and as long as he was still breathing it didn't matter much to him if the person who sewed him up treated patients of the two or four legged variety. He had bigger problems.

"How'd you know?"

John snorted. "Give me a little credit, okay? I figured you were going after Alcazar when you asked me to pull my guys off him for a couple of days. I just didn't know when, so I've been hanging around, hoping I'd be there when it went down."

Jason shifted around, the pain starting to bleed in around the edges of the drugs they'd given him. It stole his breath away. "To stop me?"

"It's called back-up, Jason. You should try it sometime. Then maybe you wouldn't need two pints of my blood."

"No one else to trust."

John pulled up a chair and sat down. "What the hell happened? And before you start with the brick wall impression let me remind you that it's my guys cleaning up your mess as we speak _and _I'll be the one covering your ass."

"Bastard was ready for me. Knew it, but had to go in anyhow."

"Well, he's dead now; Alcazar and two of his guards. None of 'em will be missed so you don't have anything to worry about right now other than resting. I'll take care of everything else."

Jason shook his head. "Trevor."

"That information is above my pay grade, son. He's not an immediate threat in any case. It'll be a long time before he ever sees the light of day again."

His eyes were so heavy and it was hard to keep them open, to keep his focus. All he could think about was Elizabeth and how as long as Lansing was still allowed to draw breath she would be in danger. So far he hadn't been able to find out where they were keeping him, but one day he would find the asshole and make him pay.

John stayed with Jason as he slept, checking in with his men at the crime scene by phone, and calling Brenda to tell her that he wouldn't be coming home at all that night – she wasn't happy. Their daughter wasn't much of a sleeper, but he kept telling her that most four month olds were like that, but what the hell did he know he was just a guy and therefore clueless.

Jason was restless and John was afraid he was going to rip open his stitches. He thought about asking the doc for some more drugs so that Jason could get the rest he needed, but knew that the patient would not like that, would rather be in pain than let his mind be clouded by drugs. Shaking his head, John settled in for a scintillating game of Tetris on his cell phone.

When Jason started murmuring in his sleep, John leaned closer and tried to figure out what his friend was saying. It took several minutes but he finally made it out, "Elizabeth."

**Seattle, Washington: **

Elizabeth listlessly traced the pattern of the wood grain on the counter with a finger, mind hundred of miles away, and oblivious to the concerned glances Angie kept sending her way. She knew her friend was worried about her; she was worried about herself.

Ever since Jason had left she had fallen into a funk that she just could not seem to shake. Simple things such as getting out of bed in the morning and getting dressed felt like impossible tasks. What was the point in getting out of bed, of going to work, to the grocery store when all she wanted was to be alone?

It didn't take a shrink to tell her that she was depressed.

Who could blame her for feeling a little blue when she had poured her heart out only to have Jason walk out on her with some bizarre promise to secure her safety after kissing her brainless. Maybe she'd read too many romance novels lately but wasn't that the point in the story where the guy swept up the girl and had his wicked way with her or at least told her how he felt? He damn sure wasn't supposed to leave.

Elizabeth sighed as she propped her chin on a fist and stared out the window. Life, especially her life, was definitely not a romance novel. He could have called, told her exactly what it was he intended to do, although she had a pretty good idea on that already. And the guilt was devastating. It ate away at her insides until she was nothing but a hallowed out shell.

Jason was out there somewhere killing people – one specific person, but who knew how many he'd have to go through first – because of her. So many had already died, one by her own hand, and when she allowed herself to dwell on it, it was a little too much to bear.

She was just one woman, no one special, who never wanted to hurt anyone, only wanted to live her life free of terror and abuse, and yet the body count continued to rise. What if, she permitted herself to wonder, what if Jason became one of the casualties. Could she live with knowing it was because of her?

If only she hadn't been so stubborn and gone with him when she had the chance. She could have run. It wasn't so much to ask, especially from the man that had given so much, but instead had to be stupid. All she really wanted was to be with Jason, but she wanted him to want her back.

Considering her track record she shouldn't have been surprised it didn't work out. She was cursed. People should keep their distance before her bad luck rubbed off on them.

"Renee," Angie said, cautiously approaching. "Are you doing okay? You haven't been yourself lately and I'm starting to worry about you, sweetie."

"I'm just …," Elizabeth shrugged when words failed. "I guess I'm just going through a rough patch."

Angie nodded sympathetically. "You know you can always talk to me, right? I mean for anything, doesn't matter what, I'll be there for you."

Elizabeth managed a small smile but it was brittle and threatened to crack her whole carefully constructed façade. "Thanks, Angie. You're a good friend." Better than she deserved.

The phone rang preventing either woman from saying anything more as Elizabeth turned to answer it.

"Good afternoon, Emerson Books; Renee speaking. How may I help you?"

"_Renee Prescott?" _

"That's right," Elizabeth replied suspiciously.

"_This is John O'Brien. I'm a friend of –" _

"I remember you," she interrupted. "Wh-what's going on? Jason?"

"_He's hurt, been shot, but is going to be fine." _

"Hurt?" Legs no longer able to support her, Elizabeth sat down on the floor. "What happened?"

"Renee, what's wrong?" Angie asked in distress as she leaned over the counter to gape at her. Elizabeth ignored her.

"_He's going to be all right. I'm taking him home to Maine," John said. "It's just … he's been asking for you." _

The tears she'd been holding at bay for all those long days since he had left her finally spilled over. "He asked for me?"

"_Yes, several times. I think you should come. He's going to need someone to take care of him for a while and –" _

"I thought you said he was fine," Elizabeth accused.

"_He is, but you know, he's still been shot and lost a lot of blood before I could get to him, so it'll take some time before he's back on his feet." _

"You should call Meg, his neighbor. She'll take care of him."

"_He wants you."_

Heart threatening to burst from her chest, Elizabeth swallowed a sob. He wanted her. It was difficult to hold herself together in order to talk to John.

"Renee! What the hell is going on?" Angie demanded, coming around the counter and trying to take the phone away.

Elizabeth fought her off, clutching the phone as if it were a lifeline. "Until I get there," she told John. "Meg'll see to him until I get there. I don't know who long it'll take; can't fly straight there."

"_It's safe now, Elizabeth. Alcazar is dead," John said over a sudden babble of voices in the background from his end. "Listen, I've got some things to see to before we leave. We should be in Maine by tomorrow at the latest. Come as soon as you can." _

"I-I will," she stammered. "Thank you, thank you _so_ much."

Elizabeth slowly climbed to her feet, head spinning a little, and hung up the phone, unmindful of her friend's near frantic anxiety. There were too many other matters for her to worry about and there wasn't any time to waste. She had to get to Jason.

Angie trailed after her as she rushed to the storeroom and yanked open her locker. So much to do. She was going to need plane reservations, but she could do that on the drive home to pack.

Whirling around as she pulled on her coat, Elizabeth finally noticed she wasn't alone. "Oh, Angie! I'm so sorry but I've got to go. I don't know when I'll be back." She stopped, considering. "I don't know_ if_ I'll be back. Please tell your parents I'm sorry to leave them hanging but I have to go."

"What is going on? Who was that on the phone and why are you crying? Renee, you have to tell me something."

Elizabeth made a split-second decision and took Angie by the arms for what she sure was going to be a shock. "First of all, my name is not Renee."


	20. Chapter 20

**Freedom, Maine:**

The car rolled up the familiar tree lined gravel lane to park in front of the unfamiliar house. It was so much grander than the charming little log cabin that had stood there before, but it did not lack character, and in time would mature to better match its rustic setting.

For some reason she expected it all to look exactly the same, but nothing ever went unchanged. Places, like people, evolved over time. Sometimes they were better, other times worse, and others still, just different … like her.

Time and a lot of therapy had changed her. The past, while nothing she could ever completely forget, no longer held her in death's grip. Moving forward was what her life was about now.

With that thought in mind, Elizabeth emerged from the car and even though she was in a hurry to get to Jason, stood, hands on hips, surveying the house. That was precisely where Meg found her when she stomped out from the workshop behind the house.

"'Bout time you showed up."

Elizabeth turned, smiling. "It's nice to see you again, Meg."

"Always nice to be seen," the older woman replied in her husky voice as she came to stand beside her and looked at the house in much the same way. "Too damn big for one man if you ask me."

"How is he?" Elizabeth had run best and worst case scenarios through her head the whole way to Maine and still wasn't sure she was prepared to witness the severity of his injuries first hand.

Meg frowned causing Elizabeth's stomach to clench in fear. "Well, he claims to be just fine and snaps at anybody who suggests he take it easy. He threw the young man he claims is a friend out a couple of hours after they got back. I suspect that's a good sign, but he's too damn pigheaded to know when he's done enough. He'll probably keel over any time now."

That sounded about right. "Is he inside?" Elizabeth asked, aware that she was going to have a fight on her hands if she intended to play nurse, and she most certainly did.

"No, he's back in the old garage working. You just go on back there and say hello. And I best be getting' on home. Horses don't feed themselves, you know?"

Meg went to her old Bronco parked in the shade of a tree and spoke from her open window. "It's good that you're here. He'll be glad to see you – and don't let him tell you any different." She left with a spray of gravel and dust before Elizabeth could collect herself to say anything else.

With one last look at the house, she turned on her heel and went back to the only surviving structure from her short time there. The doors and windows were left open in deference to the warmth of the day and she could hear the sound of power tools as she approached. Shot no more than a few days ago and he was already back to work, she thought with displeasure. He should know better, and likely did, but was too hardheaded to accept it.

As she stood in the door way, as she had once before, the scent of sawdust tickling her nose, Elizabeth watched him work, amazed that hands so proficient at the deliverance of violence were also capable of creating such beauty. An intense wave of affection washed over her, making her long to run to him and grab on for dear life.

"What're you doing here?" he asked brusquely after turning off the chop saw.

Elizabeth stepped further into the workshop. "I came to see how you were."

He did not look at her. "I'm fine."

"You were shot."

"John shouldn't have called you." He picked up an open bottle of beer and took a swig. "You shouldn't have come."

Confusion and hurt intruded on her happiness in seeing him again. "I wanted to and – and John said you were asking for me."

Jason sat his beer aside and picked up the piece of lumber he had been working with, carried it over to where the sander sat. "I wasn't exactly in my right mind at the time."

Swallowing thickly, Elizabeth lifted her chin in defiance. She'd pinned all her hopes on secondhand information that turned out to be faulty. "I see."

"I was going to call you, when I got around to it, to let you know that things were safe for you."

"Yes, John told me that, too." She still wanted to cry by they were tears of anger. How dare he treat her as if she didn't matter, like the things she'd said to him didn't matter! She'd traveled cross-country because he was hurt and she wanted to be the one to nurse him back to health. He'd kissed her as if he really cared for her. Maybe he didn't love her the way she loved him, but he'd felt something for her.

"Why didn't you tell me what you were going to do? I thought we were a team; I could have helped."

"I work alone," he replied bluntly. "Besides, I didn't want you involved."

"A little late for that, don't you think? Considering this whole mess is because of me."

Instead of answering her Jason turned on the sander and proceeded to go back to work. That she did not like to be ignored was something new that she learned about herself, and as such, she marched over and pulled the cord out of the socket.

"Are you even going to look at me?" she asked, holding her arms out from her sides in open invitation.

Jason slid his eyes over her in her jeans and yellow blouse and then away. "I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing."

It took more self-control than she knew she possessed not to beat him bloody, but her whole body was vibrating with anger. "Yeah, well, since you're obviously on the mend," she said through clenched teeth. "I'll just be going."

While it was tempting to run away with her tail between her legs, most likely smarter, too, it went against every promise she'd made to herself. Even if she got hurt, got her heart crushed and made a fool of herself, at least she would have tried. She mattered damn it and deserved answers.

Stopping in the door, she turned around and caught him watching her with the most peculiar expression on his face, as if he were physically in pain, which he very well could be considering he was recovering from a bullet wound. Whatever it was it bolstered her confidence.

"You asked why I came here and I lied. I didn't come to see how you were; I came because I'm in love with you." She shrugged, faking a casualness that was beyond even her typical skills as an actress. "Just thought you should know."

After waiting a minute – the longest of her life – for him to say something, Elizabeth started to leave on wobbly legs, careful not to trip on the pieces of her shattered heart.

"Wait."

"No," she said coolly over her shoulder. "We're done here."

There were only so many times a person could be struck down before they gave up. It wasn't wrong and she didn't feel like she was letting herself down. She was taking what was left of her dignity and leaving a place she so obviously was not wanted.

Though she kept her head up and back straight, it did not stop the tears from burning her eyes or blurring her vision as she stalked up the slight incline to her car. If she'd been able to see where she was going maybe she wouldn't have tripped on an exposed tree root and ended up on her hands and knees in the dirt.

With a partially muffled scream of frustration, Elizabeth flopped over on her butt to examine her scraped hands. They weren't too bad, she'd definitely had worse, but for a woman that had been to hell and back, it was the final straw.

No matter what she tried to do, whether it was for herself or to make others happy, it always turned out badly. She was sick of the lies and pretenses. That was why she told Angie the truth, because the weight of that secret was more than she could bear any longer. And it had seemed silly to continue to pile lies on top of lies when she had every intention of leaving Seattle for good. When she believed she had a future with Jason.

It was stupid, she realized with the clarity of someone looking back, to build all your hopes and dreams on a few kisses. Jason had never promised her anything other than to make sure she was safe. He kept his word she would give him that. It wasn't his fault she'd read more into it than it really was.

Taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths, Elizabeth told herself that she was going to be all right. She didn't need Jason, or any other man for that matter, to make her life complete. She was a young and intelligent woman with nothing tying her down. If she didn't want to back to Seattle then she didn't have to. If she decided to move down to the Bahamas and sell hand-woven baskets on the beach she could damn well do it.

She was about to get up when a hand clamped over her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked, and had the nerve to sound sincerely worried.

"Fine," Elizabeth said and shrugged him off. "Don't touch me."

"Okay." Jason backed off, but stood there and watched while she got up and dusted herself off.

"Don't worry; you won't have to throw me off your property. I'm going. Trust me, I am _so_ going."

"Back to Seattle." It wasn't a question.

"No, and any obligation you might feel towards me is over as of this minute. You've taken out all the bad guys and saved the girl, your duty is done. Aren't you relieved? Now you can sit out here all alone, just the way you like it."

"Where are you going to go?"

Elizabeth chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't know. And it's none of your business."

She started to walk away yet again when he said, "It is my business. It became my business the night you walked into a bar and paid me to kill your husband."

"Job's finished, Jason. Time to move on; I am."

"I can't," he replied, following her to her car. "Until the night I met you I knew what my life was about. It wasn't perfect, but I knew what I was doing, where I was going."

"So I ruined your life," Elizabeth said as she yanked open the car door. "Why am I not surprised? I ruin everything else."

"No. No, you just changed it. You changed me."

Elizabeth stood in the vee between the car and opened door, one arm resting on the roof and the other on the top of the door, and raked her eyes over him. "Considering your recent behavior, it wasn't a change for the better."

"Do you think I like treating you this way? Pushing you away? I hate it, but it's the best thing for you. I am not good for you."

"You are the one thing in my life that makes sense," she countered, unable to believe that he really believed that. "I thought I had the world at my feet that I could _finally_ start living, but I'm not. I'm not free. All I am doing is hiding out in Seattle pretending to be someone I'm not. Renee isn't real. She's the person I thought I should be, but can't." She placed a hand to her chest. "I am Elizabeth."

Jason ducked his head, scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt and rock. "I know who you are."

"Exactly," she said, reaching out to grab his arm. "I have been more myself with you than anyone else I have ever known. Don't you get it, Jason? The only life I want is one with you."

He looked down at her hand around his wrist and then back up to her face. "You could do so much better."

Elizabeth smiled. "I disagree."

Jason tenderly ran his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. "There are things you don't know about me, bad things, that I don't want to touch you. You're too important."

"I know enough. The rest … we'll figure out as it comes. But you have to give us a chance first. Stop pushing me away."

He looked conflicted even as he took her hand in his. "I'm trying to do what's best for you."

"What about what is best for _you_? What do you want, Jason?"

He gazed off into the distance out over the lake, as if he had to think about it. Elizabeth worked hard at being patient but it wasn't easy. In her heart she believed that Jason wanted to be with her, but she didn't know if he would ever allow himself to go there.

He didn't seem to think himself worthy of her, which was ridiculous, but also kind of sweet. It meant he cared; otherwise he would have taken what she offered so freely, abused her trust, and then thrown her away when he got bored. She couldn't really be mad at him because he pushed her away for the same reason she tried to take off when she found Ric's flash drive and the pieces finally started coming together. All she wanted to do was protect him and keeping her at a distance was his way of protecting her.

Gazing up at the log house, the new wood gleaming in the dying light of the day, Elizabeth couldn't help but picturing what it would be like to live there with him, to make a life with him. She smiled, thinking of quiet evenings in front of the fire, or other more discordant moments where they butted heads only to make up later when they talked it out. A life where she would never have to be afraid or walk on egg shells because, despite Jason's flaws, he was a good guy. The best man she'd ever known.

"Do you want to see the house?" he asked, drawing her from her own musings.

"What?" she said in confusion. "No. I want to finish what we were talking about."

"We will," Jason promised as he pulled her along the dirt path towards the structure. "You should see it."

Exasperated with his lightening fast mood changes, Elizabeth went with him, but as soon as he released her hand, crossed her arms over her chest and glared. It was difficult not to be charmed as they stood on the wide front porch that just begged for a swing and pots of flowers, but she held firm. "Why do I have to see it now? We were talking about something important and –"

Jason opened the front door that just so happened to be pained red – her favorite color and threw a disarmingly shy smile over his shoulder. "You should see it because - well, because I built it for you."

Goggling, she found herself stammering unintelligibly for a few seconds before saying," For me? Jason, what –" The sight of high ceilings and gleaming floors stopped her from continuing when he urged her inside. As the interior was sparsely furnished only made it seem bigger, cavernous.

Resting a hand on the back of the large and comfortable looking sofa – the sole piece of furniture in the living room other than a lamp - for support as her knees were shaking, Elizabeth took in blank walls and naked windows. The emptiness was such a contrast to the cozy atmosphere of the old place. Almost as if the house was still waiting for it's occupant to come and make it a home.

"There's no furniture," she said inanely because it felt as if some sort of observation was necessary.

"I'm working on it."

With a distracted smile at his comment, Elizabeth roamed. Overwhelmed by the hugeness, not only of the house itself, but also by what it meant, she found herself at a loss for words.

Jason followed silently as she walked from room to room downstairs until they reached the kitchen with its shiny new appliances and beautiful cabinets that she knew he built himself. "If you built this for me then what was that back there?" she asked, finally going with what was on her mind rather than beating around the bush – there was less room for misunderstandings that way. "I was going to leave, Jason, and I wasn't coming back. Were you just going to let me go?"

"I've done it before," he said quietly. "That day on the beach I almost told you then how I felt about you, but you weren't ready, so I let you go. It was the right thing to do and I told myself that was what I had to do today, but I couldn't."

He took a deep breath before continuing, his eyes rapt on hers as he spoke. "It's not easy for me to tell anyone how I feel. Staying detached, being numb, all that is necessary for doing my job; I'm still alive because I can be like that. But you," he shook his head, "I feel too much when I'm with you, when I think of you, and have made mistakes because of it.

"What I'm trying to say is, even though I know it's wrong and a risk I'm not sure I can let you take, I love you. I didn't want to be and kept denying it was anything other than –"

Elizabeth had heard enough, grabbing his face with both hands, pulled him into a searing kiss. His arms were slow to come around her and even then very loosely as he returned the buss, but she barely noticed, other more important things kept her occupied.

He loved her she thought joyously and wrapped her arms around his neck, straining against him, unable to get close enough. It was obvious Jason felt the same way as his arms constricted around her waist tightening their embrace. When he groaned, she pulled back, panting and embarrassed because she'd forgotten that he was recovering from a gun shot wound; one he got while protecting her.

"Did I hurt you?"

Shaking his head, Jason slanted his mouth over hers and proceeded to kiss her until it felt as if her brain would start leaking out her ears.

They were both breathing hard afterward, still clinging to one another when Elizabeth stroked his face and said, "I love you, too."

Jason took her hand and brushed his lips across the fingers. "You should take some time and think about what you are getting into."

Everything she had yearned for was by some miracle there, within her grasp and he wanted her to wait. Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't need time. We've wasted enough."

"You're going to get it anyhow. You have to be sure, because if you were to change your mind later … I'm not sure I would be able to let you go."

"Good. I don't want you to. Hold on real tight," she said, wrapping her arms securely around him in demonstration, mindful of his injuries. "I won't mind. Promise."

And so he did.

**The End**


End file.
